Courage, Human Nature, Learning, Life, Living, Love, Lovers, Poetry, Quality of Life, Regret, Relationships, Resilience, Self, Self-Knowledge, Spirituality, The Art of Living Well

There are Ghosts in Every Heart

The air is warmer
Than the spring tonight,
Cooler than the summer.

A half-moon has risen
But I cannot recall
Whether it waxes or it wanes.

It is three in the morning and thunder
Is rolling off the mountains,
There is lightening to the North.

Continue reading “There are Ghosts in Every Heart”

Anupriya Kumari, Hope, Human Nature, Life, Love, Loyalty, Passion, Poetry, Purpose, Resilience, Terese, Teresums

Burn a Candle Against the Night

Light a stick of jasmine tonight
And I will light one too.

A stick shall burn near the sea,
And another near the mountains.

Is not jasmine the same scent for everyone?

Burn a tapering candle tonight
And I will burn a tapering candle too.

Continue reading “Burn a Candle Against the Night”

Human Nature, Liars Lies and Lying, Truth

A Confusing Choice of Words

Most of us say we want to live according to the Truth when what we mean is we want to duck a little pain and suffering by seeking shelter in comforting lies.

This is more something to be understood about people than it is to be bewailed and condemned, for it seems to be a part of our nature that — as Nietzsche pointed out — most of us need to believe a few lies in order to be able to affirm life.

Anupriya Kumari, Authenticity, Being True To Yourself, Death, Eudaimonia, Free Spirit, Goals, Human Nature, Ideas, Impermance, Josh, Life, Living, Meaning, Nature, Play, Purpose, Quality of Life, Self-Flourishing, Spirituality, The Art of Living Well, Well Being

The Meaning and Purpose of Defiance

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY:  Paul offers his views on the meaning and purpose of life.

THE CRITICS EJACULATE! “The Grand Fraud of Blogging American, Paul Sunstone, excretes his opinions about the meaning and purpose of life in what can only be considered a shameless act of public urination.  Life is fully terrifying enough without the addition of his muddled and confused vision for embracing it.  I must insist upon the return of the guillotine.  I must insist upon the return of justice to our world.” — Aloyse Leblanc, Le Critique Passionné de Blog, “La Tribune Linville”, Linville, France.

Continue reading “The Meaning and Purpose of Defiance”

Art, Honesty, Literature, Poetry, Quotes, Shreya Vikram, Wisdom, Writing

“Shy Writers Die.”

“Shy writers die.”  — Shreya Vikram (in an email to Paul Sunstone).

“The moment you feel that, just possibly, you’re walking down the street naked, exposing too much of your heart and your mind and what exists on the inside, showing too much of yourself.  That’s the moment you may be starting to get it right.”  — Neil Gaiman.

Authenticity, Being True To Yourself, Eudaimonia, Free Spirit, Life, Living, Love, Oppression, Quality of Life, Self-Flourishing, The Art of Living Well, Well Being

“Leave Me Wild or Die”

(About a 2 minute read)

I’ve got a promiscuous heart.  It’s a nymphomaniac.  It can’t stop itself from falling for people.  Long ago, I tried long and hard to love “an only one”.  The heart didn’t like that at all.  It went on strike after about two years.  It began making me die inside.

It’s a loyal heart.  Once it decides to love you, it sticks with you no matter what you do just like a bad family name in a small town.  It never falters in it’s love for more than the few minutes it takes you to forget one of my lectures on the epistemology of carnal knowledge.  If you abuse me, it will still love you.  It will only regret that now I myself have got to leave you.   It’s as promiscuous as a cruise ship full of cats, but it’s as loyal as a kennel full of dogs.

But it’s picky too.  Paradoxically, while it can’t just limit itself to an only one, it can be really picky about the dozen or so people it loves all at the same time.  Sometimes it won’t even love people I like, esteem, and admire.  People I would proudly be the first to pick as a roommate on a lonely two year rocket ride to Mars.  Sometimes I think my heart is the pickiest heart I’ve heard tell of apart from hearts too scared, too confused, or too stuck up to love anyone at all.

I’ve tried — years ago I tried — to turn my heart into a nice, weedless, walled garden.  It just came back to me with an ultimatum,  “Leave me wild or die”.

Agape, Alyssa Holmes, Anupriya Kumari, Authenticity, Being True To Yourself, Death, Eudaimonia, Friends, Human Nature, Jane Paterson Basil, Life, Living, Love, Lovers, Marysa, Muses, Nature, Passion, Philos, Poetry, Quality of Life, Relationships, Resilience, Self-Flourishing, Shreya Vikram, Terese, Teresums, The Art of Living Well, Unconditional Love, Well Being

I Will Sing Songs to the Ice

(About a 3 minute read)

i.

Something huge fell against my door last night.
Something crashed the silence of the night.

When I was calm enough to look through my window
I saw a tired stag with a broken leg
Struggling to rise.

It failed at first, but then, with horrendous effort,
At last gained its feet.

Last night I saw a tired stag with a broken leg
Slowly cross my yard, pausing every few feet,
Perhaps to ease the pain.

The fur on its back was tuffed up and disturbed
Like the stag had been pounced on and in a fight.

Last night I saw a tired stag with a broken leg.
Last night I saw a tired stag with a broken leg.
Last night I saw a tired stag.

ii.

You are comely and beautiful.
Your still-satin skin glows
In the grace of youth.

You are comely and beautiful.
Your life opens towards the future
Like petals spreading in the morning sun.

You are comely and beautiful.
Your mind roars over the rocks
Like a crystal cold mountain stream.

You are comely and beautiful.
Your heart yearns for the heights of love
Like an eagle for the sky.

You are comely and beautiful.
Your still-satin skin covers sleek muscles
Covers sleek muscles and unbroken bones.

You are comely and beautiful.
I watch you as you take my breath away.

iii.

Tonight, I can hear the cracking of the ice
Beneath my feet.

Tonight, I can hear the cracking of the ice.

My winter is half run.
At 62, my winter is half run
And my life now thaws
Into your spring.
Rushes over boulders into your spring.

I have loved you more purely and more passionately
Than you in your youth might know.

I have loved you with eyes that see well beyond yours.
I have loved you until my heart
Has broken and been reborn.

Tonight, I can hear the cracking of the ice.
Tonight, I can hear the cracking of the ice
Beneath my feet.

So tonight, I will sing songs to the spring.

“You can fly higher, my love,
You can fly further than you think.

“You can fly higher, my love,
You can fly more beautifully than you think.

“You can fly higher, my love,
You can fly to intimacy with the sky.”

Tonight, I can hear the cracking of the ice
Beneath my feet.

And so tonight, I will put on heavy skins
And sing songs to the ice
Before my fall.

Tonight, I will sing songs to the ice,
And I will put on heavy skins.


Curious readers might want to check out Sharon’s poem, Struggles on the Ground.  It strikes me as having themes related to this poem’s themes.