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Valeriu Butulescu

Childhood. The only lost paradise.

aphorism by from Auriferous Mud, translated by Dan CostinaşReport problemRelated quotes
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Ive Lost The Only Love I Knew

Written by don helms and hank williams
Recorded by ray price feb. 8, 1952, with the drifting cowboys
(d) you ask me why my (d7) hearts so (g) sad,
And (d) why the teardrops fill my (a7) eyes,
A (d) heart cant sing thats (d7) filled with (g) pain,
How (d) can it (a7) laugh when it (d) cries. (d7)
First chorus
I (g) saw my dreams all fade and (d) die,
Like castles in the (a7) blue,
Each (d) dawn will bring more (d7) tears and (g) pain,
Ive (d) lost the (a7) only love i (d) knew.
Oh, life for me is use - less now,
It seems so empty and blue,
Theres no more use to try a - gain,
I fail in everything I do.
Second chorus
Its hard to know youll never have,
The one you love so true,
While the worlds asleep, Ill lay and cry,
Ive lost the only love I knew.

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My Childhood World Was Once The Only World

My childhood world was once the only world
Years later when it exists only in my memory
It has become one of many worlds the Jewish people have known
In their long journey-

Its idiom and characters its look and its feel
Its small dreams and distinct languages
Are gone-

All I thought once the whole of the real world
Is only a small part of what has gone on far longer than it
And all these worlds together too
Are not the whole of the universe –

Yet my memory of this world makes it larger and larger
And for me still it is in the center of space and time –

One day soon when I am gone
No one will know it as I have-
Some traces of it will remain in the minds of other witnesses
And when they are gone
This world too will have only a remnant of it
Remaining as words.

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Lost Spring

I was born, once, in a spring,
When the mountains bloomed,
And the snows melted;
That very spring in March.

The skies filled with the song of birds,
The air with the fragrance of flowers,
The water shone like diamonds;
That very spring in March.

Oh I wish, I wish, to go back,
Once more to my childhood,
To that lost paradise;
That very spring in March.

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The Only One

She was the only one
Of my flesh and blood
Now I have no calling
I can do no worldly good
I sit silent
I sit mourning
I sit listless all the day
Ive mostly lost the voice to speak
And any words to say except
Does heaven have enough angels yet
Ive gone hard
And Ive gone cold
I cant make the piece of this cracked life fit
Please forgive me for wanting to know
Does heaven have enough angels yet
She was the only one
Of my own flesh and blood
Sometimes I hear her calling
Straight from the house of god

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Loving Is The Only Heaven

You pad across
the white tile floor

almost animal

your beauty
something only you
could tame

I have to raise my arm against it
as you come out of the sun

wearing only my white silk shirt

blown gracefully
against your curves

the shirt billowing behind you

as if
you were an angel
with folded wings

each step
a thing of wonder

lost in thought

as if you had taken – a wrong turning
& seemed surprised to be

here
stranded

kissing this human

who seems to know

that loving
is the only Heaven.

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Let the ascetics sing of the garden of Paradise

Let the ascetics sing of the garden of Paradise --
We who dwell in the true ecstasy can forget their vase-tamed bouquet.

In our hall of mirrors, the map of the one Face appears
As the sun's splendor would spangle a world made of dew.

Hidden in this image is also its end,
As peasants' lives harbor revolt and unthreshed corn sparks with fire.

Hidden in my silence are a thousand abandoned longings:
My words the darkened oil lamp on a stranger's unspeaking grave.

Ghalib, the road of change is before you always:
The only line stitching this world's scattered parts.

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Sonnet 68: Stella, The Only Planet

Stella, the only planet of my light,
Light of my life, and life of my desire,
Chief good, whereto my hope doth only aspire,
World of my wealth, and heav'n of my delight:

Why dost thou spend the treasure of thy sprite,
With voice more fit to wed Amphion's lyre,
Seeking to quench in me the noble fire
Fed by thy worth, and kindled by thy sight?

And all in vain, for while thy breath most sweet,
With choicest words, thy words with reasons rare,
Thy reasons firmly set on Virtue's feet,

Labor to kill in me this killing care:
Oh, think I then, what paradise of joy
It is, so fair a Virtue to enjoy.

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The Only Ones

Can you feel me, I'm so close I'm sure
Anytime if you would call be right to your door
Is it over, lost this time for good
I never knew that I could be so misunderstood
* We are the only ones, left alone with this heart of stone
We are the only ones with nothin' left but fools alone
Life's so empty, there's nothin' left for me
Oh I wish you were back, baby you and me
Last September, it's like yesterday
You slipped through my hands, there's nothing more to say
* Repeat
I can feel the magic in your heart tonight
I thought we had something oh so right
Baby tell me do you still care
'Cause this ain't no game of kiss and dare
[INSTRUMENTAL]
* Repeat twice then go into the instrumental fade out

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The Only One For Me

You just happen to be
the only one for me.
And even though I never knew it
up until now,
it's confusing to me
and makes me wonder how
so many years that I've been given
I missed out on so much livin'.

But love is magic
and the magic takes you
to where you belong.
Yeah, love is magic.
It reaches out to you
just like a song.

The years that flew when I never knew
are all the years that I lost.
But it's okay now 'cause I know somehow
that all those roads that I crossed
have led me back to you.

You just happen to be
the only one for me.
And even though I know it
I'm not allowed to show it
So I keep you locked inside my heart
and the magic won't let it ever depart.
'Cause you just happen to be
the only one, the one for me.

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The Only Way I Know

In a world where love is found and
lost so easily
I'm so thankful I share my life with you
All around you hear the sound of
faithless poetry
Oh, I won't lie
That's something I won't do
There must be a million words
To whisper soft and low
There must be a million ways
I could let this feeling show
But loving you with all my heart
And never letting go
That's the only way
The only way I know
Maybe I will never say everything I feel
Even so, you'll always know the truth
In the silence of a touch every word is real
As long as I live
That's what I'll give to you
There must be a million words
To whisper soft and low
There must be a million ways
I could let this feeling show
But loving you with all my heart
And never letting go
That's the only way
The only way I know
That's the only way
The only way I know

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The Only Thing I Care About

She had the eyes of some one older,
I have eyes that wonder 'round,
I couldn't see what really mattered,
Caught hell from my boss,
Don't care about my job,
Caught a cold from the rain,
Don't care if I'm cold,
Played every record that I own to date,
but the only thing I cared about got away,
She was a walking work of art,
I am a broken wind-up-toy,
I thought I knew what really mattered,
Got a flat on the road,
Don't care about my car,
Lost 26 bucks bucks,
Don't care about my rent,
Caught every episode on TV today,
but the only thing I care about got away,
She had a brilliant future,
I have a past,
I have my momories,
but they're fading fast,
Caught Hell from my boss,
Don't care about my job,
Caught a cold from the rain,
Don't care if I'm cold,
Played every record that I own to date,
But the only thing I care about got away,
but the only thing I care about got away,
But the only thing I care about got away...

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In The Only Pub In Penshurst

In the only pub in Penshurst saturday is the big night
Some of the locals there for a meal and drinks of their worries make light
And some even have their children there in a child friendly place
And everyone seems happy a smile on every face.

In the only pub in Penshurst I was made feel welcome there
It did not seem to bother them that I was from elsewhere
To me they were so welcoming as if I were a long lost friend
And I felt like a Local there before the night did end.

In the only pub in Penshurst they sell the best of beer
And talk of cricket and football one is obliged to hear
The Aussies playing cricket in England and football finals time drawing near
And Spring around the corner it is that time of year.

In the only pub in Penhurst though there I was not known
The locals made me feel welcome as if I were one of their own
I had gained at least twenty new friends by last drinks at closing time
And to these lovely people I dedicate this rhyme.

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The Only Unforgivable Thing

(HogarthKellyMosleyRotheryTrewavas)
The only unforgivable thing
Hauls itself out of bed
Looks over my shoulder
At the BloodyEnglishWeather
The only unforgivable thing
Waits for me in the corner of the room
Laughs as I clean my teeth
Laughs as I rub at my eyes
The only unforgivable thing
Is curled up in the wardrobe with my clothes
Sticks like chicken bones in my throat
Ruins the ritual Sunday lunchtimes
The only unforgivable thing
Watches itself with me
Every night on the TV
Follows me across the park
As I go out walking in the dark
Waits for me in the kitchen cupboards
The only unforgivable thing
The only unforgivable thing
We will close down
Hide in the corner of the
Lost and Found
For to live without the ground
Is so unsound
Gravity would only pull us down
Will no one help the boys
Who exist only as voices?
I have lost the stars and the sky
It was so that I could keep the earth
So now I'm found
Beyond the rocket-burst among the burned out fireworks
In No-vember
The only unforgivable thing
Is comfortable in it's own skin
Whispers "Why did you do this to me?"
'til it's just about all
Just about all I can see
The only unforgivable thing
The only unforgivable thing
The only unforgivable thing
I did..
I did..
You did.. You did.. You did..
We did..

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You're Not The Only One Feeling Sad Tonight

You're not the only one feeling sad tonight
There are others laying low
keeping out of sight
taking their last breaths
Hanging on to threads for dear life
Dealing with abusiveness
Cutting themselves up with a knife
Your're not the only one feeling sad tonight
someone else just turned off their light
someone somewhere is sobbing and crying
someone else is struggling or dying
someone somewhere just quit trying
Somwhere someone just OD'd in their bed
Someone else just dropped dead
You're not the only one feeling sad tonight
Somewhere someone just slammed a door
Gave up on love, just couldn't take it anymore
Somewhere someone just settled a score
Somewhere someone was punched to the floor
Somewhere someone rotted to the core
You're not the only one feeling sad tonight
Somewhere someone just lost a child
Someone somewhere lost it and went wild
Somewhere someone fought their last fight
Somewhere someone felt the empty cold of night
Somewhere someone ate their last meal
Somewhere someone found out evil is real
You're not the only one feeling sad tonight
Sometimes life is dark instead of bright
Sometimes it's lonlieness instead of being treated right
Sometimes it's time to run or to stand your ground and fight
Life is unfair to some and others celebrate with delight
But no matter how low you feel, whether wrong or right,
You're not the only one feeling sad tonight
It's just one round in a twelve round fight

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Lost Paradise

Swat, Dwelling of the scented and angelic souls

A land which once a country dear
now passing through turmoil years
Where health and beauty cheer and craze
how often her charm was praise,
thy snowy hills and rosy land.
The never failing brooks and smiling springs,
the enchanting breeze and the lovely scene,
People call it heaven on the land.
But I tell you now.......
They were thy charms and all are fled,
By divine writ thy luxury cursed,
Those lovely hours once thy pride
Now lust and lies instead abide.

Rivers serene storm in anger,
Sky hills blooded and danger
The Lands trodden by armies' dark
Guns roar with a question mark
The highland lass looks for lover
Arrest a glance of head cut lower,
Where dusk terrifies and hurting dawn
and the starry sky wailing and wane,
Oh Never step into this fairyland
Sages are quiet and the young abstain
O! Pray to have our serenity again

Good Heaven!
What sorrows gloomed that parting regime
Nightmare reigns our lovely dreams
and shatters the hearts serene.
To whom I blame,
Soldiers of the god…..?
Or soldiers of Land
Let hail the shedding blood
of the innocent being,

they are suffered but never complain,
but say a coral in melancholy strains,
No beauty adorns thy fairy eyes,
truth decay and false arise.
O, tears from the depth of divine despair
Rise in the heart and gather in the fear
But my faith never disappear
Has vision that dazzles my eyes
And behold a lost paradise.

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The Only Father I Have Really Ever Known

You never stood up and told the truth, you never even tried-
You simply took so much from those around you, and simply died-
Without contrition or even shame for all that you had done to so many-
Instead, I was left to carry guilt for a Father that did not have any.
The simple fact that you helped to procreate me, seemed to suffice,
As reason for the deceit and bias of many, the iniquitous price
That I was asked to pay, simply for who my Father was,
When I am no more responsible, for what my Father does,
Than those that you victimized before your untimely demise.
This is a most prescient fact that some do not stop to realize:
I was just a little boy then, yet became privy to your maleficence
As a man of 36, when my love for you became abhorrence;
When the man I knew as my Father died once again,
Where the sorrow for a Father lost, became the bain
Of my very existence-the thought that I mourned you
And the loss that I felt, when I was never warned, you
Were a monster-a fact that I should have known-
Instead, I held on to your memory, where I could have grown-
To distance myself from who I believed you to be,
To grow as a man, for all the world to see,
Unbiased by my connection to you, a man I never knew.
Instead, deceitful asservations, of things I could never do,
Continue to haunt me, as a spectre of unspeakable torment;
Where, my erstwhile inherent rights, I now sadly, silently lament.
It is not from you though, that I seek relief
From the horrors of my heart's abominable grief.
I look to my only real Father, in Heaven above,
Who only shows me compassion, truth, and love-
Not all that which you espoused, and have done.
You stole so much from us, but I will have won
When I can finally say I do not loathe you any longer,
Only what you have done-then I will be so much stronger
Than I am now, and then perhaps, ready to finally go home
To Heaven, and to the only Father I have really ever known.

-Maurice Harris,21 October 2012

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The Book Of Paradise - The Seven Sleepers

Six among the courtiers favour'd
Fly before the Caesar's fury,
Who would as a god be worshipp'd,
Though in truth no god appearing,
For a fly prevents him ever
From enjoying food at table.
Though with fans his servants scare it,
They the fly can never banish.
It torments him, stings, and troubles,
And the festal board perplexes,
Then returning like the herald
Of the olden crafty Fly-God.
'What!'--the striplings say together--
'Shall a fly a god embarrass?

Shall a god drink, eat at table,
Like us mortals? No, the Only,
Who the sun and moon created,
And the glowing stars arch'd o'er us,
He is God,--we'll fly!'--The gentle,
Lightly shod, and dainty striplings
Did a shepherd meet, and hide them,
With himself, within a cavern.

And the sheep-dog will not leave them,--
Scared away, his foot all-mangled,
To his master still he presses,
And he joins the hidden party,
Joins the favorites of slumber.

And the prince, whom they had fled from,
Fondly-furious, thinks of vengeance,
And, discarding sword and fire,
Has them walled-up in the cavern,
Walled-up fast with bricks and mortar.

But the others slumber ever,
And the Angel, their protector,
Gives before God's throne this notice
'To the right and left alternate
Have I ever cared to turn them,
That their fair and youthful members
Be not by the mould-damp injured;
Clefts within the rocks I open'd,
That the sun may, rising, setting,
Keep their cheeks in youthful freshness.'
So they lie there, bless'd by Heaven.
And, with forepaws sound and scatheless,
Sleeps the dog in gentle slumber.

Years come round, and years fly onward,
And the youths at length awaken,
And the wall, which now had moldered,
From its very age has fallen.
And Jamblika says,--whose beauty
Far exceedeth all the others,--
When the fearful shepherd lingers:--
'I will run, and food procure you,
Life and piece of gold I'll wager!'--
Ephebus had many a year now
Own'd the teaching of the Prophet
Jesus (Peace be with the Good One!)

And he ran, and at the gateway
Were the warders and the others.
Yet he to the nearest baker's,
Seeking bread, went swiftly onwards.--
'Rogue!' thus cried the baker--'hast thou,
Youth, a treasure, then, discover'd?
Give me,--for the gold betrays thee,--
Give me half, to keep thy secret!'--

And they quarrel.--To the monarch
Comes the matter; and the monarch
Fain would halve it, like the baker.

Now the miracle is proven
Slowly by a hundred tokens.
He can e'en his right establish
To the palace he erected,
For a pillar, when pierced open.

Leads to wealth he said 'twould lead to.
Soon are gather'd there whole races,
Their relationship to show him.
And as great-grandfather, nobly
Stands Jamblika's youthful figure.

As of ancestors, he hears them,
Speaking of his son and grandsons.
His great-grandsons stand around him,
Like a race of valiant mortals,
Him to honour,--him, the youngest.
And one token on another
Rises up, the proof completing;
The identity is proven
Of himself, and of his comrades.

Now returns he to the cavern,
With him go both king and people.--
Neither to the king nor people
E'er returns that chosen mortal;
For the Seven, who for ages--
Eight was, with the dog, their number--
Had from all the world been sunder'd,
Gabriel's mysterious power,
To the will of God obedient,
Hath to Paradise conducted,--
And the cave was closed for ever.

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A Memorial for the lives lost in Karbala was done

A Memorial for the lives lost in Karbala was done
And the bodies and the heads had finally become one
And Husain’s slain army was remembered by all
And the children of Mohammed lamented His son
For three days and nights in the desert they mourned
Embracing His grave as though never to be torn
Hearts lit like candles, their love for Him bloomed
Their sons, like flowers, scattered around His tomb
Remembering those killed, they cried out in grief
And clutched at their hearts and in pain swooned
“Where are those who watched over us?” they cried
“Now we wander, unveiled in broad daylight”
The air was fraught with sobs as the widows wept
And the noble sister’s face on His tomb did rest
And cried “Oh my beloved brother Husain
For three days and nights I’ve been your guest”
“Heartbroken and forlorn I am indeed
For I feel as though my services are not well-received”
The will of the Imam, I will gladly accept
But the bruises on my arms I haven’t shown you yet
I am alone today, no friend in sight
Without you I am nothing, how can you forget?”
“I’ve lost sons and brothers and you in this war
An my back is bruised with the tip of the spear” “I cared for the orphans, the fathers lay dead
Their tender ages and prison, the pain and the dread
To divert them from their misery, I narrated your tale
I was their mother, their aunt, or their father instead”
“And I will live on to see them suffer and die
For it is not my destiny to see beloveds thrive”
“I had imagined that pilgrims would surround Your grave
And angels would gather to applaud the brave
And I would hold a memorial to remember the souls
But there is no one here today, I am amazed”
“By your graveside I sit alone, my Brother, and weep
And console my heart though my pain is deep”
Saying this, Zainab inconsolable, sobbed
And the tomb of the Prince shuddered and rocked
Basheer approached Abid and asked, head bowed
“May we leave Oh Imam? Your aunt is distraught”
Abid approached His aunt, weary and concerned
He asked “Dear aunt shall we return?”
Zainab replied, “As you wish my dear Imam”
And preparations to leave for Medina began
The tents were untied and the camels lined up
And around the holy graves gathered Ali’s clan
Bidding farewell to those who slept in their graves
The old and the young stood around in a daze
At the thought of leaving her brother’s tomb
Distraught, Zainab cried “How can I leave you alone?
In this forsaken desert away from us all
This empty, desolate city now your home”
“Where nothing grows and nothing lives
Such a place you have chosen to gather and rest” “Oh noble Lord of Karbala, farewell
Oh the sands that cradle His body, farewell
Dear grave of the noble lofty Prince, farewell
My brother, I part from you, bid me farewell”
“You do not answer me, ill is my fate indeed
For it means that you not pleased with my deeds”
“How do I face Medina having left you here?
What if the Prophet questions, how can I bear?
If I go to Najaf, the same question I will face
‘Where is Husain?’ That is all I will hear”
“You have not asked me to stay, so I must depart
But where do I go with my broken heart?”
“Won’t you come, hold my hand as I alight?
Won’t you shelter my being from strangers’ eyes?
Won’t Abbas or Akber come to bid me farewell?
Won’t you bring Asgher for whom Banu cries?”
“You are our leader, come lead us ahead
We’re ready, yet you sleep, the grave your bed”
“Although I weep my Brother and call out your name
You do not answer O Prince, I am amazed
If only you will come and embrace me now
I will leave for Medina, though never the same”
At this, the Prince answered “My dear Zainab farewell
Give my love to Soghra, my daughter who is ill”

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The Fall of Paradise

(after John Milton)

I. Lucifer

Thus he rebelled without anyone stopping him,
wanted to put up his throne above, at times
equal to that of the almighty Creator
and approached others for this goal,
felt at times that his jealousy was noble
where he stood at the edge of the precipice
and thunder flashed ominous around him.

He dragged a third of once holy ones along
to all at once squander their lives,
joy, virtue and nobility
and along with them
later missed the glory, peace and love
of the heavens and knew
that he (the flaming son of the morning)
is trivial to the Most High (who is always honourable)
could not even stand in His shade
and through stars, he had torn, through the heavens
to declare war, as in his heart he wanted to win
as if insanity was eating
through every reason and sensibility
and had destroyed his nobility.

When he stood alone in front of Michael and thunderbolts,
suns and comets was thrown at him
at supreme command, he new pain and misery
was banned from heaven, with all of his rebellious team
was crackled down in flames
and in his heart he had to admit that it was just,
that he could not give life to anything
and could not comprehend or have love anymore;
as might, his splendour,
his own power had overwhelm him
and then he could still fall on his knees and beg for mercy

but he was far too proud for it
and he wanted to take revenge on the Almighty One
where he cunningly deceived man
and got some more victims for his own punishment
but for man God himself came to pay the price,
Lucifer was convinced that death on the cross
was the end of God, as God had become man,
in his heart Lucifer thought that he had won
and when God rose staying available for man
Lucifer could still not comprehend or explain love
or what it is to as God have the power to life.


II. After that initial awakening

After that initial awakening
Adam realised that every animal had a mate
and in him there was a longing
for a companion, for someone beautiful to love

and with infinite care God knew about his thoughts,
made him sleep and formed a woman from his flesh,
constructed a delightful charming being,
someone to match the longing of his soul.

Radiating purity and innocence
they stared awe struck
for long moment after long moment
when at first they became aware of each other.

God Himself bonded them in connubial love,
told them to multiply, to engage with each other
in the act of utter joy and there was sheer magic
and tenderness while in each other’s arms they did rest

Such sweet happiness, sprung from love
physical, spiritual and for God divine
and was in the tender care
with which they ruled the world.

They made sheer intimate passionate love,
without realising their nakedness
found beauty, love and tranquillity
in ever movement, in every tender gesture

and it was if there was magic to everything,
as if in each insect, animal, plant and tree
they found something inspiring
while they lived with freedom of choice.


III. Glorious did that snake appear

Glorious did that snake appear,
with its scales glittering in the sun,
in a place of perfection
its charm, its voice did stun.

Its deception mixed truth and lie,
enticed the woman Eve,
to reach for more knowledge,
to reach for godliness.

To her the love
of her husband Adam was secure
and in perfection, in sheer innocence
she looked at that snake with an own radiance.

The longer they talked the more she longed,
not for the fruit of life, for immortality,
but to enter into the unknown
and by disobedience the fall of man did begin.

The taste was sweet but mortality was in it,
it made both Adam and Eve aware
of their sheer nakedness,
brought destruction to a world without strive,

but still the two humans instinctively knew
that in all of this, in the sin that they entered in
God had a plan for the salvation of man,
a plan that was unspoken but existed as a token of love.


IV. How will I now see the face of God or of His angels?

(Adam after the fall of man)

How will I now see the face
of God or any of His angels?
Will it be with sheer joy,
in a blaze of clear light?

Or will I forever be afraid,
be scared of wrath, of judgement of the brightness
that reveals the darkness of my heart,
that reveals the darkness of my passions?

In this glade where I am hiding,
where leaves are covering
my beloved Eve and me,
I long for some tranquillity

but my own iniquity, our sin
is darkening everything
and there’s shame,
so much of it

that I do not know
how to face God the righteous One,
or even one of his angel messengers
and I am longing to be forever hidden.


V. There was some tranquillity in His voice

(Adam after the fall of man)

There was some tranquillity in His voice
while He called us to appear,
to where He was wandering in the garden
but in nakedness we were hiding.

His piercing brightness made the darkness
where we were hiding day,
and He had seen us sin,
had seen us changing the way that things were

to devastation, to pain and suffering
and He told us about the earth being cursed,
to bring forth thorns and thistles,
about the struggle to earn a living,

about death that at a time will be approaching,
will be approaching everything that lives
and He made clothes of skin,
to cover our nakedness

told about the time when He would come,
to crush the head of the snake,
to die for our sins like the lamb
that He had slaughtered for us.

We knew that the punishment for sin was death,
that all things living would change,
with lions, leopards, wolfs
preying on gazelles, on antelope.

It was clear that His words were true,
that He truly loved us
even though we had fallen to sin
and His eyes were full of pain

when He looked at us
and we did not really realize
the destruction, the pain and the hardship
that we had brought about

not until much later, when our son Cain
killed his brother Able
but we cuddled together
when He left us and loved each other.

As I knew that day by day
our bodies was weakening,
saw the strain, the sorrow
on my darling, Eve’s, face

while I held her while she was crying
another plan to reverse things
suddenly came to mind
and I wanted to get fruit from the tree of life

but He knew all things
and before I could even reach that tree
He banished us from the garden of Eden,
driving us out into the wilderness

and I struggled to understand this
while mighty brilliant cherubim ready for battle
was patrolling at the entrance to Eden,
with drawn flaming swords.

[References: The Holy Bible, “Paradise Lost” by John Milton.]

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Patrick White

The Only Way To Control Things

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
Water on rock
a fist can't do anything to stop the rain
that keeps washing its bloody knuckles
by kissing the raw red buds
of the pain-killing poppies clean.
Anger grows ashamed of itself
in the presence of unopposable compassion
just as planets are humbled by their atmospheres.
The soft supple things of life insist
and the hard brittle ones comply.
Bullies are the broken toys of wimps.
Power limps.
But space is an open hand.
Mass may shape it
but it teaches matter how to move
just as the sky converts its openness
into a cloud and a bird
or the silence nurtures
the embryo of a blue word
in the empty womb of the dark mother
like the echo of something that can't be said.

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
Not a posture of giving.
Not a posture of receiving.
Not a posture of greeting or farewell.
Not hanging on or letting go
but the single bridge they both make
when they're both at peace with the flow.
It's not the branch it's not the trunk
it's not the root it's not the fruit
but the open handedness of its leaves
that is a tree's consummate passion.
Isis tattoos her star on their palms
like sailors and sails
to keep them from drowning
and into the valleys of their open hands
that lie at the foot of their crook-backed mountains
the aloof stars risk the intimacy of fireflies
and fate flows down like tributaries into the mindstream
as life roots its wildflowers on both shores
as if there were no sides to the flowing
of our binary lifelines.

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
You cannot bind the knower to the knowing
as if time had to know where eternity was going
before anything could change.
X marks the spot where all maps are born
to lead you back to yourself
like a treasure you forgot to bury.
An open hand is a ploughed field ready for seed.
An open hand is the generosity that is inherent in need.
An open hand is and is not an open hand.
No hinges can define it
because it's not a two-faced Janus
standing in the doorway of a new year.
An open hand doesn't look forward.
And open hand doesn't look back.
What opens like a flower doesn't close like a door
and when a hand opens
it opens at the urging of a light within
that makes the light without
glow like the mother of wine.
An open hand isn't the writing on the wall.
Moses came down the mountain with a stone tablet
but an open hand makes
an avalanche of the ten commandments
and goes its own way without submission or regret
like a vine with a prehensile grip.

An open hand is the only way to control things
when things are out of control.
It isn't a day of yes followed by a night of no.
There's nothing divine or infernal about it.
An open hand is all that humans need to know
about their own nature
when they let their gods and demons go.
Nothing missing.
Nothing complete.
An open hand is enlightenment.
A fist puts a bad spin on ignorance.
An open hand is a book older than the Bible.
An open hand isn't a tool
or a new kind of stealth weapon.
An open hand isn't a weathervane
or a rudder in the wind
or one wing of a bird
with a secret twin.

An open hand is the only way to control things
without killing them for their own good.
An open hand does not say thou shalt not
or you should.
An open hand is not a white flag of surrender
a victory flag or a sloppy salute.
It's not the price tag you look at
when no one is looking
on a second-hand suit
you've been wearing out like a body for years.
An open hand isn't the hesitant offer of an uncertain friend
held out like a placebo that can't heal anything.
You might have fixed the palings
but you still haven't mended the fence.
An open hand is the way things feel when you're truly alive.
It's got nothing to do with how the fittest survive.
An open hand is the afterlife of a fist that died in defeat
trying to unseat an older power
that swallows it like a god
dissolves a cube of sugar in water
and finds it sweet to be absolved of the deed.
An open hand is a cup that could hold an ocean
but never overflows.
An open hand isn't a relic of the thorns
that pinned a butterfly messiah
to the webbed cross of a sacrilegious spider
or Ciceronian appendages nailed to a senate door
like a bill that didn't pass
or Che Guevara's hands cut off
by the people they laboured for like rebel fruit
that went against the grain of the tree
that poisoned everybody like a jackboot.
An open hand isn't a proposal for reform.
It's not the new norm.
It's not what not to do
when people are watching you
to see if you're the same as them.

An open hand is the only way to control things
when you don't know what to do
at the genetic crossroads
of cosmic and domestic things
that weigh on your mind
like the dirty laundry of evolution
piling up in the corners
like falling standards of confusion.
It doesn't question anything
so it never rejects an answer.
It doesn't pretend to be the sign
that beatifies its own suggestion.
An open hand isn't trying to make
a housewife of an iris
or trying to nail things down
to get a grip on things
like a man who knows how to suffer like a floor.
An open hand isn't something
worth living or dying for.
It won't save your life.
It won't take it.
It's not a lifeboat or an anchor.
Four fingers and a conductor for a thumb
don't make a choir of flesh
that will make the angels come like groupies
and just because
you've got runners on four bases
doesn't mean you can hit a home run
like the stand-in umpire
behind the home plate of your palm.
Four men out and one man on
and the thumb bunts to the outfield
in the last inning of a pre-fixed playoff game
that shaves the score like a pencil into points.
An open hand is the only way to disarm a fist
that buries the road you're on
like an improvised explosive device
timed to go off in your face like a hand grenade.
The only way to control things without controlling them
is with an open hand.
An open hand does not deny or affirm.
An open hand legislates like the light
and judges like the rain.
Five fingers are the roots of a hung jury.
Five syllables of an incommensurable life sentence.
An open hand isn't the servile agent of a wilful mind.
It doesn't do anyone's bidding.
It isn't the delta at the end of a long river
whose life flashes before its eyes
like an ancient civilization
as it disappears into the sea.
An open hand doesn't squat on the ground
like some denuded navel-gazer
who mistakes his belly-button for his third eye.
An open hand says as much to the deaf as the blind.

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
An open hand is the sign of a mind at rest
with what it doesn't understand.
An open hand isn't a contract with anything.
An open hand isn't a flatlining fist.
An open hand is a loveletter that doesn't insist
on being returned like a dove
that's just discovered land.
An open hand is the fairest image of a god
ever created in the likeness of a human.
An open hand is the omnidirectional threshold
of the homelessness we built
on a cornerstone of quicksand
like water moonlighting as a rose.
An open hand isn't celibate or promiscuous.
An open hand warms itself
around the cold fires of the stars
and tells tall tales about the constellations
of scars and callouses that have sprung up
like villages along its lifelines.

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
An open hand is a myth of origins
that ends where it begins.
An open hand makes no distinction
between matter and mind.
An open hand is the enlightened gesture
of a human who knows without grasping
what they don't understand
and welcomes without expectation
all those who cross over it like the floor
and pass under it like the roof
of a house without a door or a window
to keep anything in or out.
An open hand is as certain as doubt
it doesn't know what it's all about
but the only way to control things
when they're coming apart
and coming together
is with a hand
as open as an ample heart
that gets it by letting it go
one breath one death
one footstep one heartbeat
one spring one autumn
one hail and farewell after another.

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
An open hand rests in its power like the flower
the Buddha gave away to Ananda
as all he could and couldn't and wouldn't say.
Seekers look for starmaps to paradise
like the night looking for the day
that shines all around them
and blinds them.
But look as they may
an open hand is always the way that finds them.

The only way to control things is with an open hand
that binds us to the boundlessness
of letting go of who we are
like a star on the lam
that poured itself out like insight
to say to the night I am.
This is my hand.
It's open.

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