Must we pay to travel between dark and light?
I quiet my own voice and listen. What was not available to me before appears, unembodied, yet fully formed.
This wind. Its sounds penetrate like sharpened visions, cutting through me with voices in languages I can only sense. Doors open, my consciousness suddenly blown off its hinges.
I used to think there was an uncrossible chasm between heaven and hell. But reading what I have just written, I now believe it was just a hole I dug where I should have built a bridge.
I have mingled my breath with forces I cannot control, and the gap is closing in overlap with both sides.
This wind cannot be contained by words. It shivers me with fingers of fire and ice. It is both more ravishing and more malevolent than eternity.
Detached without beginning without end.
Prosery for Lillian at dVerse, with this line from Louise Gluck: “Reading what I have just written, I now believe”
K. 
“I used to think there was an uncrossible chasm between heaven and hell. But reading what I have just written, I now believe it was just a hole I dug where I should have built a bridge.”
WOW! *clapping*
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Thanks so much Jenna. You have made me see my words from a new angle. I really like when comments make me stop and look again at what I have written.
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This is thrilling and as well mysterious. Bravo
Stay Safe
Much❤love
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Thanjs Gillena.
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Now that you know you’ve dug the hole, you can begin climbing out. I also feel like we’re walking through a weird twilight world like the one in your collage, one hard to orient within at times. I trust in the 23rd Psalm and keep walking….
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It’s hard to navigate the world without trusting in something. Thanks Jade.
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You’re welcome.
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Your thoughts are fascinating, Kerfe. You dug a whole and I built a box, but both of us where looking for the best way forward.
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Thats true Robbie. We just make our own constructs of what we’ve done.
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The tone of this reminds me of the premise of Foucault’s Pendulum. Reality, irreality, heaven, hell, magic, all concepts, and who’s to say where we stand?
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I love the wind metaphor, Kerfe, especially ‘consciousness suddenly blown off its hinges’. I know what you mean about digging holes instead of building bridges.
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Thanks Kim. I think we all have a tendency to do that at times.
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wow powerful writing Kerfe! I dig these mysterious metaphors …
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Thanks Kate. A mystery to me as well! (K)
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if you solve those I think it’s called enlightenment …
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Oh, my goodness, Kerfe. So powerful, chilling, wondrous, mysterious! And the wind. . .
“I used to think there was an uncrossible chasm between heaven and hell. But reading what I have just written, I now believe it was just a hole I dug where I should have built a bridge.”
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Thanks Merril. I took it from some freewrite pages I did months ago. Those are always mysterious.
This was a particularly open-ended quote I think. Quite a variety of responses.
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This is so profound and philosophical, Kerfe. Made me think of Blake’s ‘Marriage of Heaven and Hell,’ which I keep coming back to. The themes you’ve broached here are some of life’s biggest questions.
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Thanks Ingrid. Life has plenty of questions.
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Powerful use of the word “wind” — these lines hit me the most:
“I used to think there was an uncrossible chasm between heaven and hell. But reading what I have just written, I now believe it was just a hole I dug where I should have built a bridge.”
For me what that says is that sometimes we build our own despair….and make the choice to fall over the abyss rather than find a way through it or over it. Sometimes though, in reality and for those with mental illness or severe cases of depression, the abyss is too deep and there is an actual inability to build a bridge – they simply don’t have the tools to do it.
Interesting spacing/construction of your prose. It almost looks poetic?
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Thanks for your careful reading Lillian. You are right that we contribute to our own despair.
I would never write lines this long for a poem, but it seems the lines between genres are blurring everywhere.
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Ah, so often we dig holes when she should build bridges and unwittingly set the scenario for our own despair. A very evocative write! Well penned.
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Thanks Beverly.
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I think heaven and hell are always very close, just like the border between evil and good dissects every human heart… but maybe that is the real hope. We all have a choice.
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It is a kind of hope. Thanks Bjorn.
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