A String of Blood
M
Circle;
Far from the warm wings’ shadow.
A stone, some feathers,
Perhaps a vague memory
Of the rough-hewn arche
Will guide my heart
With a string of blood
Out of the cycle, and
Back
To the warm wings’ shadow.
M
Circle;
Far from the warm wings’ shadow.
A stone, some feathers,
Perhaps a vague memory
Of the rough-hewn arche
Will guide my heart
With a string of blood
Out of the cycle, and
Back
To the warm wings’ shadow.
I like this. Quite a bit, really. Care to unpackage it at all?
Thank you Ariel;
And I’m quite willing to “unpackage” it, though part of the beauty of art is its mystery:
There are three synonymous ideas here: the stone, wings, and the esoteric arche (which is Greek for “essential material” or basic stuff; the fundamental core). All of these ideas came to me from the Psalms and are all references to the Divine (“shadow of his wings,” “rock on which I stand,” and finally, the rough-hewn cross, which is the foundation of the very world).
The first half is about my tendency towards self-deification; the frenetic self-centredness of my anxious heart.
And there is only one thing that can lead me out of this cycle of despair…
Circle;
Back
Excellent. Now I appreciate it all the more.