Writing as catharsis

Dreaming, souls ablaze

Posted in Poetry, Prose by Lachlan R. Dale on June 15, 2013
Lomo by Salvador Dali

Lomo by Salvador Dali

We live and writhe inside our own minds,
Dreaming, souls ablaze, our eyes dilute and blur.
We awaken to find ourselves gazing inward;
Searching the structure of cells, at our chemical essence
Charged with electric light,
Hoping to uncover some secret that
Would grant us a spark to burn beyond time;
To carry our heat forever onward
Through the void and into eternity;
To some knowledge that we are not
Abandoned and left to wither away
With the dust and the ash,
To be reduced and swallowed by
The grinding machinery of the earth;
That we are more than our raw material;
More than a chance assemblage of
Atomic particles, that our transitory
Forms live on, somewhere, somehow.
But who are we to challenge the slumber
Of our silent gods? Who are we to
Escape the pull of gravity, to demand
The birth of a star so that we might feed
From it’s light?
Of these things we dream in our deepest sleep;
In the nights in which we can perceive
The resonance within us; the echoes
Of the ancients, the secrets of our
Animal lineage; the voices of trees and stone
That even now pulse within the depthless ravines
Of the spirit, whispering in our ears
Our shared past and inevitable end.
With all our being we seek resolution,
Our yearning enough to disassemble our form.
We must recognise our true nature and
Allow it to burn within our souls.
We must feed our lives with celestial fire;
Surrender to the oblivion of the eternal vibration
Which envelopes us; that can tear us apart
So effortlessly.
To know this, and love this;
To share this with another,
To spend each night basking in the light of stars,
Enraptured, blissful, intoxicated with life; –
This is all that fills my waking heart;
This is the true orientation of my soul;
This wish fills my nights; both those of sleeplessness,
And those of peace.

Aflame; dividing night

Posted in Poetry, Prose by Lachlan R. Dale on June 15, 2013

That evening magenta burnt up the blacks and blues of the mountain;
Thin sheets softened the stark skyline
And flames struck across the earth to divide
The night from the day.

I was there with you, huddled for warmth
And laid up against the trunk of some ancient tree,
Searching the skies for secrets in shadow cast
And wondering why, in the moments before the blackest hours
The world seemed to sheen and shine as if
Suspended in the dying light of day;
Like the sun was giving one final howl before the haze
Ran a chill to our souls.

We dug in a pit and clasped the cold earth,
Gathering clay to lay beside our heads.
Now the sky is shrieking, howling, aflame.
The birds join in; a screeching cacophony
Which reaches an almost unbearable peak.
All seems about
     to
          burst.
But, instead; a slow fade;
A hastened retreat.

The earth cools;
The lights dim.
And we shudder.

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Under waves

Posted in Poetry by Lachlan R. Dale on June 10, 2013
Lac Rose, Sénégal

Lac Rose, Sénégal

We stumble, we fall,

We chew on remains,

And we do what we can to obscurify our souls.

These silent desolations we wreak

While we hide behind chivalry,

And we bury our hate with our song.

For here we are courteous

Though a courtesy was never paid

And your brutal indifference

Left me under waves.

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