quasi-quotation

i am in a constant battle with my mind. i go from thinking that i am special for being "intelligent" to realizing that being aware of my being special is, in fact, a sign that i am just seeking attention and simply something i like thinking about myself. then i realize that being aware of that fact counter-acts itself, and i am stuck in an endless paradox of myself. i have not yet learned how to stop and just say "it doesn't matter"

I honestly thought I wrote this. but as it turns out this is just a quote I saved while stumbling. It rang so true that I was in honest disbelief that someone else wrote it. I thought to myself "how the hell did all of these pages on Google access something I haven't yet published?" as I did a resource check. The one thing that threw me off was the use of the word paradox, it's not a word I use frequently. 


Why am I so weird?

A spoonful of delight

Writing prompt #232: Use the following metaphors in a poem: a course of sorrow, a spoonful of delight, a knot of hate.


Through my eyes the world unfolds

My fingers anxiously picking at the corners

Let me tell you, those who have gathered

Of a man beaten down again and again

Of a stone worn down to sand

By the fast rapids we've built around us

Let me tell you of a stone

Trailing the river bottom through a course of sorrow

He looked down to his lap,

A splash of coffee had begun to warm his thigh

This man knew no epic journey

He sailed no sea, climbed no mountain

If the common people sing no verse

Can a man with no great debt know fear?

Or is his journey instead mapped on his heart..

Sing muse, with glorious verse

Of how fate weaves us each a cloth

A napkin appeared in front of him

Attached to the napkin were a finger and thumb

And to those a wrist and arm

"Surely this world is not generous" he thought

As the knot of hate pulled tighter

But this arm did not hang in the air

No, it too was attached to a body

"Thank you" he muttered, the warmth now fading from his leg

But the body attached to the arm had a voice as well

And the voice spoke back words of curiosity

One who drinks coffee in a bar is sure to catch eyes

But to catch a voice means the crafters are weaving

The man spoke with the body and discovered ears as well

For it returned words that reflected his own

To find another body with a voice and ears is rare

We flow through our lives too fast to find these bodies

But like boulders in a canyon we know when they appear

And as surely as the sun rises

Bodies with voices and ears do have hearts

For what else would cause a man to speak

Or even better,

Listen?

The body continued talking, 

And the man soon found that he himself had ears

But not only did he have ears, he had a voice.

His new ears taught his voice new words

Eager to practice, the man spoke back to the body

And as his voice grew stronger, his heart grew warmer

Surely the body must also have fire within it

For what else could show a man such passion

Or even better,

Light the passion within?

His voice continued speaking, led on by his heart

And the body before him revealed that it also had eyes

The eyes were different than the voice and ears

They spoke not to the man, but to the fire within the body

And as the body's eyes reflected the warmth within

As the man watched the eyes of the body

He found that his own eyes had begun to look inward

And the warmth reappeared in his chest

No coffee had made its way to his shirt

The man felt his own fire, and his eyes reflected it as well

The hands that previously extended a napkin now knocked on the bar

And a woman wearing an ivy necklace strode down

Her eyes reflected her own fire, 

And she too had a voice and ears

Removing a glass from it's cradle, she poured robust wine for the man

As it stirred, the scent pleased his heart

And his fire grew inside

Placing the glass down in front of him, she smiled warmly

"Here you go, sweetie"

But when the man handed over his pay

She departed as elegantly as she had arrived

The man looked at the body and asked

"Is this for me?"

The eyes on the body changed temperature

They grew warmer, and fire danced behind their eyes

"This has all been for you"

And as the God strode off, the scent of wine filled the man's nose once more

As the man drank, his fire too began to dance

His eyes warmed from the passion

His ears opened to the chaos

His voice listened close to his heart

And his heart forever remembered the gift of Dionysus.

Introduction

"As the gods wore many faces and had many tales, so does each person that graces this planet." -Antheros