The innocence of beauty
and the wisdom of wounds
can be a powerful combination
when harmoniously balanced.
Yet beauty’s teaching will always be
inferior to the wisdom of wounds.
Beauty is fleeting.
The wisdom of wounds endures.
The wise learn from their wounds:
yet fools see the same wound multiply,
since wounds, untreated,
However, only a masochist seeks pain.
Like a society worshipping youth
and beauty above experience and wisdom
forever doomed to repeat
its self-inflicted wounds.
How many of tomorrow’s pains
could we be spared if we’d only
learn from the wounds of today?
There truly is…
wisdom in wounds.
[Another contribution from JW: art and words.]
Pure, yet fleeting.
Six-months at best,
following a twenty-year void.
From the black hole to exaltation.
From nothingness… to “BOOM!”
When independence craves
And single accepts double and change.
Though change changed once more…
and has yet to cease.
Bliss is gone.
No tracks to follow.
Perhaps a whisper.
A dream… often forgotten,
since dreams are equally fleeting.
And yet Love remains without Bliss.
Still pure… Even more than before.
No dross remains.
The fiery furnace of life’s trials.
the final curtain call.
Yet Love does more than linger.
Though Love’s thirst is quenched
through a daily rain of tears.
Tears at the hands of the infamous foe
who chased young Bliss away.
Sickness was who came calling,
and he did not come alone.
Wegener’s Granulamatosis Vasculitis
and the dreaded Zodiac sign:
The breast variety.
A battleground of flesh.
A battle six-plus years and still going.
Like all wars, it’s taken its toll.
The battleground is ravaged.
Consequently, only those engaged
in the battle know the true worth
of the battlefield where blood is spilled.
The womb of war.
The birth of pain.
Yet True Love sees passed the scars,
into the thousand-yard stare,
and never loses sight of a soul-mate.
Hand-to-hand and heart-to-heart combat,
no matter how the flesh may change.
Thus, the loss of Bliss is bearable
as long as Love remains.
Yet woe to all where Love departs…
and woe upon woe
where he or she’s never been.
[Another contribution by JW: art and words. We appreciate everything he’s done for us as we continue to battle the medical needs we’ve been facing.]
The human condition is far from perfect,
and yet there’s still no greater beauty.
In fact, the closest we can get to perfection
is in overcoming our imperfections,
while overlooking those of others.
Though it is true, imperfections, like beauty,
are in the eye of the beholder.
Nothing can be done to alter that fact.
A person cannot be forced to view others
through more compassionate eyes
in order to see the true beauty.
It’s their God-given right to be a fool.
Needless to say,
it is wiser to be true to oneself…
scars and all.
Heed not those who habitually point out
the imperfections of others, as they
simultaneously, though ignorantly,
spotlight their own.
Those who confess no imperfections shine a
beacon on that which they confess.
To judge without knowing is like intelligence
without common sense, it’s nonsense.
How one responds to imperfections, one’s own
or others, is a great indicator to
Therefore, sex appeal isn’t what others see in you,
it’s what you see in yourself.
Love can always look beyond imperfections
to find the beauty.
Including a healthy love of self.
A proper course of action:
cease dwelling on imperfections.
The cost is too great.
Everything of substance is forfeited in the process.
Imperfection is a part of life,
deal with it and move on.
You’re perfectly imperfect just as you are.
And if you show me anyone without a blemish
I’ll show you someone to avoid when
the shit hits the fan.
Part of the grand design is that humans can
overcome imperfections, individually and
collectively, proving miracles still happen.
Which does not imply all such miracles include
a transformation from
imperfection to perfection.
Nor does it imply mere acceptance.
Humans conquer their imperfections by not
allowing the obstacle control over their lives:
keeping them from their desires.
Individuality, confidence, peace of mind:
Living with imperfections.
Never allowing imperfections to hinder
living to the fullest.
[Another contribution from JW: both art and writing.]
[Another contribution from JW, while I endure more medical stuff.]
I caution the creative individual
who yearns for artistic acceptance.
Beware the scam, as poison.
Poison corrodes confidence in anyone who trusts:
breeds an over-cautious nature for sowing
in a field that requires daily planting.
It inspires naught, but negativism
where positive thinking must abound.
It deceives with tempting novelties
to stroke the fragile ego, so easily bought:
thus, clouding the artistic soul
which should yearn for the challenge
of perfecting poetry and prose.
And to you, who would scam the writer –
the artist –
You too, should take heed,
and mend your ways while you can.
For the pen is mightier, as the saying goes,
and time, after all, wounds all heels.
[Another contribution from JW: both art and poetry.]
The true perfection of humanity,
in a sense,
lies within our imperfections.
Beauty can be an imperfection.
Doubtless, not the common-thread
we would’ve selected
Yet a bond, never-the-less,
binding us together.
Humans are equally yoked
Alas, perfection is merely a state
of mind: often misconceived.
Humanity is a state of being:
a state where we each reside.
Who then, when equally yoked,
has the right to condemn?
Yes, beauty has its appeal,
but it’s still a façade.
After all, today’s beauty
is tomorrow’s has been;
like today’s wannabe
is tomorrow’s never was.
Attempting to uplift oneself
by degrading another,
especially when unable to prove
one’s own perfection, is, sadly,
more than a waste of breath.
It’s a prevailing symptom
of an epidemic.
An ever-increasing pastime…
An ill-inspired comedy of errors…
With but one fate…
a Greek tragedy.