Copyright © 2009 Ernest Bloom.
Your native magic
sprinkles your every motion and action
liberally in stardust
that bathes my eyes in encircling,
leaping fires and enchants
my desires, suspending me
in this longstanding
beautiful, waking dream.
You can't conceive of
what your mystic movements
and transitory dimples when you
shyly smile, looking sidewise,
mean to a ramshackle
soul like mine.
All I see are
green highlands and rainbows
that shimmer in a misty dawn.
All I hear are
dark moans from a
cruelly haunted castle
deserving peace it's never known.
You don't know, but you
need a little bit of faith.
beautiful, waking dream.
You can't conceive of
what your mystic movements
and transitory dimples when you
shyly smile, looking sidewise,
mean to a ramshackle
soul like mine.
All I see are
green highlands and rainbows
that shimmer in a misty dawn.
All I hear are
dark moans from a
cruelly haunted castle
deserving peace it's never known.
You don't know, but you
need a little bit of faith.
Ah, how true- the impact another human soul can make on us, the inherent, almost magical, sparkling electric potential in all human interaction. Adam Mieckiewicz, a Polish Romantic writer that I find otherwise largely uninspiring, described friendship as a sort of electric sparkle between one man and another. There is some truth in it, literal or otherwise.
ReplyDeleteI like the ending- initially I thought you were acting the theologian's part but then I corrected myself. True, in not knowing you need to have the faith not in God or any other man, animal or deity but in yourself and your capability to bring on the knowing.
By the by, pretty catchy title, that. I looked it up on google, how perfectly romantic of you. Well, I prefer to view the poem in more general terms but an interesting linguistic insight, this. I don't know much about Old English or Gaelic or any of those ancient languages of the British Isles, though I might look them up some time. Sounds like an incredibly inspiring activity, the unearthing of exotic or extinguished languages from the depths of the past. I'm not much of a historian, but for languages, I might just make an exception from the rule.
ReplyDeletebetter to be blinded by stardust than. . . .not.
ReplyDeleteI believe the correct response to this poem and its title is: Tha gaol agam ort-fhèin (I love you too). Hurrah for Scots Gaelic!
ReplyDelete