 |
| Lilac by Elaina Wagner |
At the base there is a bunch of lilacs.
Their smell wafting to me in the breeze.
Mild and gentle under the sweltering sun.
The sound of water rushing by in my senses.
O, the tranquility that numbs them so.
And leaves me bereft of pain or fear.
It is her essence that drives me near.
Drives me close to the edge of immortality.
As the water rises to fill the gorges.
And the mountains crumble and smoulder to ashes.
The lilacs leave not, they stay in their surrender.
And her presence with me, strong in me, willing me to fight.
To fight the disasters as they toll upon me.
As the ground beneath my feet shakes in the aftershocks
Of the past and those of the now.
I would give in to the cesspool if not for her serenity.
But I linger.
Overpowered.
Overjoyed.
Because I can fight.
Because I have the strength not to give in.
Our virtues are too pure to give in to the darkness.
I know this as I cut through the brambles and free us from pain.
And I see the light ahead.
The lilacs remain freshly immortal.
13 comments:
The lilacs, they waver not,
They mellow the storm and how,
Their fragrance lingers, distractedly,
Soothing,
Calming,
Enchanting;
Serenely, the winds collapse in surrender,
To listen intently,
As the lilacs sway,
Delicate,
Oblivious,
And thus they say,
Just a purple butterfly so affects,
More than a typhoon's work.
Let the lilacs sing,
Unaware of any calamity,
For they sing to that soul,
Unaware of its wings.
One of your best. A strange strength I sense, to my utter delight.
Gives me a distinctly clear image of a child, not more than five years of age, in a white frock, little tiny flowers made on the fabric;
she is holding a bunch of daisies and playing with the stems and leaves under a larke oak tree;
The breeze blows her tiny curls delicately so as not to disturb her and she plays on, not caring about the world.
Meanwhile, there is war, soldiers, religion, riots, destruction, contradictions, blood, flesh, impure chaos, noise, in search of hope of contentment, something we would render Godly.
Power? In what?
And the picture... Well, you seriously need to steal a glance at my notebooks!
I love it, for every reason.
This poem in its wholesome entirety is very special to me, very.
Thank you! :)
tu har ghadi, har waqt, mere paas raha hai, haan ye jism kabhi duu, kabhi paas raha hai!
~Atif
There's a strength that lies within that derives strength from another manifestation within or without, but makes us stand up and fight.
Nice post.
Cheers,
Blasphemous Aesthete
@Enchanta :
The flowers of God's endowment cannot be harmed.
A ring of fire would disintegrate.
A surge of water would flow around it.
The lilacs would remain untouched.
For they give.
They never ask.
They are the redeemer of pain.
The lilacs, the child that you spoke of, are symbols of hope in a constantly and violently changing world.
We need that hope to hold on to. It gives us strength. A great deal of it.
This poem meant a lot of things to me. One of them is you.
@Blasphemous Aesthete :
We call it hope. We call that the inner voice which makes us believe that everything wrong can be undone; that every injustice can be fought and done away with; that we will emerge victorious, no matter what happens to this godforsaken world.
Thanks, mate.
Great poem. I love the alliterative
'sweltering sun'
In the opening stanza.
@Jack Edwards : Thanks a lot. :)
That is a beautiful eye.
I possibly have encountered it somewhere, some place, maybe virtually, maybe not.
The tranquility must be benumbing. The lilacs intoxicate the air it surrounds and the ones who are hit by this very perfumed breeze. Violent nature, is it not?
@Anonymous : Yes, it is beautiful.
It is an eye that mesmerizes me every time I see it. The pair, rather. The real ones.
The violence is in the chaos of power. Since the lilacs hold such enormous gravity to themselves, the power they have is bound to be chaotic, yet simply sweetly numbingly peaceful.
That is their whole meaning and aura.
For me, the lilacs are real.
You are lucky to have felt this dream in reality and not be wavered from gratitude.
It is intimidating to know the power of these lilacs because as I am realizing, they seem to hold emotions and steal their victims' power to hold them unconsciously. That is what I meant by violent.
All things that can ignite life this way should be handled well. They can come off as misfortune, or else.
@Anonymous : No, my lilacs do not hold me unconsciously. I give in to their power with the full knowledge of my mind. I know that they need to be tended if they are to serve me for my happiness and strength. I am the one who tends to the lilacs when they need nourishment. Quid Pro Quo.
Aah. Well. I am sure your nourishment for those lilacs that you offer provide for you as well, and that would be how you are held by them.
And importantly, you give in to their power with full knowledge because you had a chance to be permitted to do so.
Just before you chime to reciprocate, it is necessary to understand it is not always Quid Pro Quo but mostly, for power like this, Quam Bene Non Quantum.
And I believe you would agree and abide by that.
@Anonymous : I certainly do understand and know what you speak of. Happiness, love and power cannot be measured in quantity but in what it can achieve. Quam Bene Non Quantum, so to speak.
And that is exactly the trade between me and my lilacs.
A powerful bond, inasmuch as a bond can be; that of mutually mirrored and complemented values.
@ Anonymous : Not to sound pompous, because these very traits may not be suitable for one and all, as they can ignite life, as you have rightly said.
But well, I was reminded of something I had written quite a while back that you might like to read, possibly in context.
Here.
Post a Comment
You've read my thoughts.
Please do tell me yours.