Dedicated to Trevor, who took the trouble
to share the original quotation which this poem,
was subsequently written as a reflection upon.
Someone once said that poetry is like
someone opening a door, and for a moment,
an observer can glimpse, what is on the other
side. Of that veiled door, before it closes again.
But I have lived most of my life,
radiating the inspiration of living,
on the other side of that door.
The wonder of another world
may be partially glimpsed;
through the poetic moment
of a momentarily open door.
Through the transcendence
of a soul's passage; through
an inter dimensional door.
Life is a hard time stressed, being stuck
on, this side of the door; for the duration
of your chosen, destined prophetic life.
When you oft, must live, a woken dream,
of inspirational serfdom, or indentured labour.
Poetic flights of fancy upon closure,
leave the residue, of a mind and body;
firmly trapped within the horror of being,
flypaper stuck; lifetime sentenced;
to the wrong side, of that soul sought door.
I am dream vision married to the magic muse,
but this estranged relationship leaves my heart,
panting, when the demands of a secular life
and soul; strain and obliterate the domain of
sought spiritual rejuvenation. While true poet must
dwell in a kind of limbolic hell, in the chill lost world
between two dissimilar worlds. Two differing
realities that differ as much as chalk and cheese.
Redemption gifted
to an uncaring capitalistic;
multitude of barren values
is a burden of great magnitude.
Feel the tear of a vision walker;
walking between dissimilar worlds.
'Poetry is the opening and closing of a door,
leaving those who look through to guess about
what is seen during a moment.'
CARL SANDBURG
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem