Sweet as the Morning (or 5454)

Sweet as the morning…

That’s what you are

Radiant as the sunlight ooze of first light

Fiery yet warm

Glorious yet hiding

Some mystery of night

Sweet as morning’s music

That’s what your voice is

A chorus of a thousand

And another thousand song birds

Whose music bids soul rouse

From dark deathly slumber.

I would rise if for nothing

But to hear those birds sing

Fresh as morning’s crisp air

Such is your presence

Oh I feel reborn

If you’re standing beside me

I could weep were it not unmanly

At this newness you give me

My lass of dawn.

And yet…

Fleeting as morning

And her dews and her sweet scents

Is this fire we share

For soon mighty fires

Become glowing embers

Become smouldering ash

Become chilled cold hearths

And beside these bodies tremble

Desperately clinging

To each other for warmth

As to life’s failing breath

Perhaps it is good to linger in night

Hopeless

Than to find hope

Then lose it

But perhaps it is better to be

Consumed by the rapture of finding that hope

And to joy and make merry while it lasts

Than to never have sought it

At all

But perhaps only the gods know best…

That I were a god

How sweet my mornings would forever be.

On Dreaming...

These may very well be the only things I live for; for whether I admit it or not, they give my life meaning. I remember when I was younger (not that I am old now) and every so often a fire raged so wildly within me that had the world been razed away, I would have scarce taken notice. That I could relive those dawning years! Or that I could vivify again that spirit of that era long past!

I have come to that point in life that no man need come. A point where to look ahead for foresight, or behind for hindsight, or within for insight, or even above for the visions of the Divine is vanity. I find myself crippled by a fear that dream as I may, I will never anchor any of those airy castles to the ground on which men. But is it because its reality is feasible that we conjure up visions of night and day? Do we dream because it can be done, or do we do it because it was once dreamt?

I argue for the latter. Dreams are the stuff by which the progress of the Homo sapien race has been fuelled. Not that those dreams were achieved. At least not all. But in dreaming was courage found to pursue the most inane, most ridiculous of causes. And in pursuing those were the most marvellous of humanity’s leaps and bounds made. Perhaps you will not find what you seek along that road you are determined to travel. But let it be considered that something greater may chance upon you. Let it be considered that in pursuit of our whims (yet our dreams are much more glorious, more powerful than even the most un-petty of whims) those things that have lingered in the infinitely unfathomable and vast sea of knowledge, achievement and progress will chance upon we lonely sailors, leading us on to that shore where the light of inquiry can be cast upon them, and they at last can fulfil that purpose they have had since time dawned- to make man a better race, yea the best.

There will forever be dissenting voices. That barbarous mob (yet how sophisticated their presentation is) that will shout down from the sidelines, and spit and slap us for dreaming. Their ways are cast in stone. The dynamism and radical thought that characterises the truly fulfilling search for truth or solution is lost on them. Yet that is where we must go. These ageing colossi will soon go the way of their fellow from Rhodes. And ours will be the music to make. Perhaps it is the strings who must make play the winds’ music. Whatever it is, let us boldly pursue it. And let it be that when that jester failure taunts our efforts, his mockery only works to fuel our drive. We shall achieve.

Dreams are the stuff the universe is made off. Forget matter, or the atom, or the proton, or gluon, or fermion or the undiscovered tiny-on or other-on. It is the dreams of the Maker that He put into form. Those form all time and space. And we are the very height of that Divine dreaming. He points out the way. Let us dream then. And dream big.