Darkness Unto Darkness!
'over the hilltops,
silence,
among all the treetops
you hardly feel
a breath moving.
the birds fall silent in the woods.
simply wait! Soon
you too will be silent.'
Goethe
a knock on the door,
Hermes,
the messenger,
come to gather and disperse!
we run like maddened chickens,
to escape the mossy hands
of the grave.
yet time comes, again and again!
all the shiny things
we stuffed into our bags,
fall like empty bells
to the floor.
the dogs of passion
like the festered wound.
the nest of straw
blown away by the wind!
flesh returns to dust,
leaving bones to testify.
the echoes of loving
haunt the stillness.
darkness unto darkness!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
Thunderous Snow!
thunderous snow,
born o'er dark silent mountains;
the final prayer,
the last turn of the plow.
air frozen and heavy,
the wind shakes the bones,
the bare trees wait,
naked, and obedient.
time come and gone,
the memory of a kiss fades
into the deep stillness,
and the sleep of the soul.
cries of passion lost,
in the darkness so deep,
that ending and beginning are one!
the hunter stares,
his shadow twisted by moonlight,
the faint taste of flesh,
dried blood on his lips.
a few flurries, a drumbeat,
the wolf howls, no sound!
stillness wraps around fire,
the fields pray empty prayers.
thunderous snow,
love, and cosmos!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sameness
Over all hilltops
is peace
in all the treetops
you feel
barely a breeze;
The birds in the forest have
stopped their song
Wait, before long
you too will be still.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Daydreaming
Soft life grows in the stillness
Step and heart hurries through the green
Loving stays at hedges,
That heavily fill up with scents.
Beech ponders; the moist bells
Fell silent, the fellow sings
Fire embraces darkness
O patience and mute rejoicing.
Beautifully animated, silent night
Still gives glad courage to the end.
Golden wine, offered by
A sister's blue hands.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Monastery
Up the long flight of stairs
every tread echoes from stone walls
as if to comment on how stillness
tells of sound its silent origin.
In the quiet library, the central table
bears a careful written message:
‘Silence is spoken here’..
and that’s truer than
at first it seems to read;
round the walls, shelves of books
as silent as the monks
standing upright in their stalls
witness words that seek to share;
yet ultimately, wave fare well, turn back;
speak of silence sought and silence found;
yet cannot speak of silence;
in the name of silence, take a book,
well-worn, from off the shelf;
meet it in the silence of the room,
read a few words, and lay it down;
glance at the other readers round the room;
fall still.
Here, silence speaks of stillness;
stillness joys in silence.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Just Grass
THE ROOTLESS GRASS
There’s no soil to settle
nor the water to drink
nor the air to breath
for the times you roam
in the continent of passion and despair
You are the dust of the road
a sigh of the passage
being blown up by the soundless wind
of indifference
You fall down to a shore
where the unknown gathers and departs
towards the horizon
of sinful hope
(Tadanori Tanigawa)
O outward stranger, you are part of all
Why are you heedless of all?
o part come!
do not be heedless of the whole
become aware and come to know all
(Shams al-Din Tabrizi)
In the continent of passion and despair
being blown up by the soundless wind
where the unknown gathers and departs
O outward stranger, you are part of all
(Yahya)
*
And the light shineth in darkness;
and the darkness comprehended it not
poem by Howlin' Dervish
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Heart Of The Country
A candle burns in the
Heart of the country
The flame fades though
I see to it sadly
It takes me further away
Than I have ever been
I wait and the darkness comes
I pray for my only one
And I wonder if you ever
Will see this land again
We took this land
And we brought it goodness
It's taken everything
And left only emptiness
I am not broken
Although I have the seeds in me
I wait and the darkness comes
I pray for my only one
And I wonder if you ever
Will see this land again
I hide my face against the sun
I hide my fear from everyone
But I've had enough of secrets
They're all lies we're scared to tell
I just need someone to be with
I just need to say you fell
There's nothing out here
But me and a whisper
And now it's failing
I won't even listen
I watch the fall and it's
Time that I was leaving too
I wait and the darkness comes
I pray for my only one
And I wonder if you ever
Will see this land again
I wait and the darkness comes
I pray for my only one
And I wonder if you ever
Will see this land again
I wait and the darkness comes
I pray for my only one
And I wonder if you ever
Will see this land again
I wait and the darkness comes
I pray for my only one
And I wonder if you ever
Will see this land again
song performed by by Anni Frid Lyngstad from Shine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Into the Stillness
Stillness,
fades from an
awakening memory,
sounds return
wheels humming
waving quietly
into the nights air
into the cool September air
amidst the darkness
tears began to fall
like rain
Looking into the
fading stillness
the border quickly
fades,
into the darkness,
into the stillness,
into September's chill
Before drifting off
to sleep
at the September crossing
I said, 'good-bye'
stillness now gone
as the memory returns
poem by M. Rene Riel
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What To Say To The Early Day...
four in the morning is usual
it is still dark in fact
and what surprises is that usual darkness has to offer?
the chickens are not making sounds
the pavements are empty of strangers
the road is wet with the whole night raining
there is this newness
of what to do for another day
and i say to myself, with all courtesy: good morning.
have i said it before? i must, but always to someone other than myself.
it is unjustified.
at this early hour i have no one to talk to.
darkness is always silent. Twilight is still far.
the morning is not saying anything.
but always time moves, darkness fades away
and so
we always welcome the light
it happens.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This is Life
we leave not because there are reasons
departures are silent
most of the time they do not speak like storms
they are like lovers
more like dust on the railways blown away
simply because the wind
always comes
simply because the wind exists
and winds by their nature do not stop
to blow away what is there that settles
but never
never permanently
this is life this is the wind
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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0068 The Connoisseur (2)
Is there a god
sleeping in this room?
even the doorhandle, gently turned,
seems to speak a message
before the room entered, the first breath taken
of the room’s own air
and on the table, the grey-green vase seems
to be the host; the silent messenger: the furniture
somehow eternal in its order; every line and curve
within the room speaking of some
divine geometry; the shaded sunlight seems
to fall on tiptoe, touch in silent praise;
the air, to be refined; and the silence –
what does the silence say unspoken
as if it holds some god-smiled word,
some solemn laughter, about what
is there and is not there, has made
of this room, this ordinary room,
a shrine where one can worship without form
oneself?
the vase too holds itself both
open and reserved; its perfect curves
the subtle decisions of a history
of centuries, of generations
of human hands; of things made
for oneself, for others, for all else
where all else is known;
silent the vase; the room full of its sound.
Is there a god
sleeping in this room?
you; moving forward with respectful quiet step
to touch this grey-green
Chinese vase
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Hiding From The Broom!
i walk the paths of stillness
into the setting sun...
in the company of dead poets,
and a few mongrel dogs.
we come to a clearing,
and gather wood for a fire,
waiting on the night spirits to join us.
my hands are broken,
they cling to nothing and no one.
i see with my ears,
and listen with my eyes.
my soul rhymed by darkness
dissolves into dust,
while crickets chant eternity.
i return to an empty house,
curtains pulled, door flung open.
lighting a candle, i sit on the floor,
waiting for death, or morning.
only then i notice the spider,
candlelight tracing the web in the corner.
and in this moment i knew,
of such am i!
a moment, a corner,
my heart just a web...
waiting on love,
while hiding from the broom!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Still Tugs (At The Leash)
i rose from the grave,
and brushed the dirt from my eyes.
i shook the chill silence
from my bones,
and walked through the last door.
i stood on your porch
for the longest time not speaking,
watching the wind blow the curtains,
listening to the creaking of the boards.
we are no more than the last step,
no less than every mile.
your reports of my death
fall on deaf ears...
i can still taste the sweat of god,
can still feel the murmur and the quake.
and when i lie down,
i dont want to be alone!
you can fill the empty grave
with memories and cold tears,
this dog still tugs at the leash!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Silent Girl [Reprise]
That silent girl broke my heart
That's her passing now
That silent girl I gave my love
It is her paid me with hurt
What would I say to this silent girl
When all she reply is silence
Maybe if I were to be a silent boy
I wound understand the tongue of silence
But I am no silent boy you see
But I love you like the waters in the sea
It flows and flows and never dries up
Please teach me to be a silent boy
So I can love you in silence
Share with you, your sweet and sad moments.
Silent girl of the river goddess
you are silent, I am silent,
Will you hear me?
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Psalm
Stillness; as if blind people sank down by autumnal wall,
Listening with rotten temples to the flight of the ravens;
Golden stillness of autumn, the countenance of the father in the flickering sun
At evening the old village decays in the peace of brown oaks,
The red hammering of the smithy, a pounding heart.
Stillness; in slow hands the maid hides the hyacinthine forehead
Under fluttering sunflowers. Fear and silence
Of extinguishing eyes fulfills the dusking room, the halting steps
Of old women, the escape of the purple mouth which slowly expires in the darkness.
Taciturn evening in vine. From the low rafters
A nocturnal moth fell, nymph buried into bluish sleep.
In the courtyard the farm boy slaughters a lamb, the sweet smell of the blood
Clouds our foreheads, the dark coolness of the fountain.
The gloom of dying asters regrets, golden voices in the wind.
When it becomes night you look at me from moldered eyes,
In blue stillness your cheeks decayed to dust.
So quietly a weed's fire expires, the black hamlet in the ground falls silent
As if the cross climbed down the blue hill of Calvary,
The silent earth ejected its dead.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Be Still, And Listen!
be still!
the One whose thoughts
conceive universes
out of particles of dust,
walks within you.
can you feel the ebb
and flow of the tide?
listen! you can hear
voices binding darkness
and light....
are they not merely echoes
of the living written
and etched into your memory?
what you call wind
is only the breath of God....
what you call rain, Her tears...
the empty place that's always
been hidden in your heart...
is only Her hand cupped
to catch your dreams....
whisper softly; Her voice blends
with yours.... and calls the robin
that builds a nest in your prayers!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Under The Cover Of The Blanket Of Darkness
under the cover
of the blanket of darkness
we feel the beating
of the fears in our hearts
and our mouths
mumble the need of
hands
however, lonely as we are
we like the beauty of the
silent island
not wanting to touch
the cloud the wind
simply because there is
nothing there
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Longs for
A little bird flies
She is looking her sun
Who always shine to bright the world
But she couldn’t find the sign
That sun appears yesterday
She is looking here and there
Perhaps she found any small sign
Just a notify sign “hi” from the sun
But, she couldn’t find it
So, she returns to her nest in silent…
Today… she beard to her mind
She will find her sun today…
She flies again to find her sun
She is waiting and waiting...
But, the sun seems disappear
Then she recall the messages
From her sun few days ago
I want to find my new transformation
Wait for me till fifteen days later
And you will see me evolve and prevail
She barely remember the messages
She only know that when she sees
The sun shines
Her world much brighter
Much shiny, much spirits
So she returns to her nest
Put the leaves and gathering into her nest
One each day so she could remember
The time that she will meet her sun again
And she wish and pray that her sun
Really will evolve and prevail into positive
To be a better Sun she ever met before
And little bird silent and wishing in hopes
poem by Minaslune Serene
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We found the Darkness together
It was like another brother
a strong bond connected
It and us together
There was no way to escape it
After all it swolled us whole
It felt like we were suffocating in a sweet darkness,
we melted together,
we didn't want to wake to another silent torturing day
so we stayed holding hands
enjoying the comfort the darkness brought
embracing our pain
We found the Darkness Together
After all it was always in our hearts
poem by Alizia Sampson
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Turn To Rust
turn down the wick!
there's a time for fighting,
a time for prayer, and
a time for just being...
in stillness.
you and i have felt things,
known things, seen things,
that most people never notice
in their mad rush to the grave!
feel the wind blowing through
the alleys, tugging at the doors
of vacant buildings... you know
its name... it has been
your lover, and your companion!
watch the sunlight dancing through
the shadows, lapping up darkness
like a thirsty dog... i am that dog!
the whispering moan of the grass
turning brown in the heat....
as our lives, and our loving
turn to rust!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Fork In The Road
i have reached
the fork in the road,
now the choice,
both silent and grieving.
i cannot hold starlight
in aging hands,
i cannot turn the tide
with a glance or a wave.
i cannot stop the wars
with my body or my thoughts.
i cannot feed the hungry,
i can only share their hunger.
the snow is falling,
the winds almost cruel,
as the fire i built
dies down to embers...
who am i?
and what have i done?
i find i'm a part
of all that i've fought!
silent screams now echoes,
the low moans of the heart.
betrayed by my soul
between light and darkness,
my lips are moving...
but not even you
can hear the sounds they make!
the fork in the road,
just outside your door!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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