|Christ in the Abyss statue|
Saturday, 7 March 2015
written by Denis Kurmanov
Poetry. De profundis inferni is "from the depths of the underworld" in Latin.
Prayer prayer prayer. So on so on so on. Shame shame shame. So on so on so on so on.
Freedom? Maybe in a little while, but not for now...not for now.
Misery? That much misery? No. Containment is more the word.
Of what? Not quite sure, hence the strange reactions all around.
Sh. Sh. Sh.
Do you hear that noise? No, actually I don't. Sometimes a clink, never anything worthy.
So what is the concealment? Anger? No, I don't think it's anger.
Pain? How does one conceal pain? Repression and all things that are "concealing" and "repressing" pain are painful. It is not that way. It is not that way.
Are those semantics?
I don't think so. I don't think so.
What is it then. What is it then!?
Anguish. Anguish. Anguish, not pain, beyond pain but not numbness. Think melodramatic; think melodramatic.
Violence? Yes-never against the living, ever. But a bad day? Never against the living, never against the living.
What does not live?
Hate does not live, anguish never lives they are the dying and the sore infection of love list, gone, destroyed or never nourished.
Your philosophy. Your philosophy. So what anguish?
My honesty, my entire story heard and thought through, brought forth and weighed against nature, against all of Being. An absolute confession, awakening, illumination, of finally overcoming everything.
Of everything, of everything.
Containment of anguish and then illumination? Why fear....why fear.
Have you ever lived, it is good, but that is with the bad. Can you give up everything just like that? To nature, not to ideas. I cannot. Alas-the underworld exists still and so illumination must be only from the moment chaos-complete abandonment, emptying of completeness-of moments past
Forgive me, i know words will never suffice.
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