Griffin Flight

“From my pursuit to my flight, and from my steed to my gazelle” Arabi

We’re spinning on this earth, but where are we?

– “at the borderlands “

Utterly, we’re spinning but whence went the earth?

My pursuit, my flight, my gazelle

Tis her, tis her and I

– and where is she?

On the border between suffering and victory, the daggers edge and the healing, the spoken and unspoken, her embrace would take my life

But where am I, then? And why, then?

A particle of an eye, a shapeless shifter, no home, a universal man, adrift without sun and moon, clear, a lone neutrino, enthroned on the ineffable

– and how came this about then? That I would want to give my life for a dream? A woman?

Her blueness of blue, in a kind of story, a “tale to be told” through a scientific discovery: ipseity, the rhythm of the telling of her name

From out of nothing! Caught in emotion! Caught in a tree of living, weaving and bobbing

– and why would I choose that? And no longer desireless Buddha or unaffected glory? A being separate from a burning pain?

The rough and tumble, rolling down a hill, a glimpse which is not a glimpse but a hint of a secret, locked in her whim? As if at her command, a lizard may appear, the world fill with butterflies, or a rustle move through the landscape

I would choose life, roots over the one way sign, dig in and interlace and meet where the flight joins the griffin and gazelle

At that rhythm of flight, interwoven pattern, I would rejoin life, rejoin earth, and I find within, inexpressible emotion which grasps heart, even tho everything, within my own yearning, over a foolish wisdom, which kisses its own sterile arse, and transcends the nothingscape

Cal Kalve