“can you give me sanctuary
I must find a place to hide
a place for me to hide
can you find me soft asylum
I can't make it anymore
the man is at the door....”
—the Soft Parade ‘Doors’ song lyrics by Jim Morrison
and I guess it is about meaning and life’s meaning
what all philosophers and poets search to find and while the philosopher may need to have answers,
well, for the poet ....like the artist, it is about another quest
that it should follow me here to my dungeon .... in my search for higher knowledge and purification on a project begun long, long ago even begun before ever leaving the step of my high school
but now, it seems I’m lost, and with it any belief and faith there is any point to what I do or ever believed and have fallen into a pit
dictionary, these writings on the wall
never have I felt so empty
***
it must be so long resisting sleep, it seems I sink deeper into subconsciousness and deeper under into ....like here, within my corner of the world to hide in a separate peace
in exhausted sleep in dream....
I see the hut and I am there again.... how many nights of this memory have I dreamed? the smeden and the forge, his back bare and slick ....in dream have seen replayed to me; have stared and watched .... watched the muscles of his back and how they hypnotize.... his fingers, their skill.... the way he moves ....his rhythm and timing as he hammers the blade, the force of the sound that he makes as the metal hits, the gold of his hair alive in the light of the forge
and the shapes of the shadows on the wall ....
until what seems peaceful, steady, un-quiet becomes the silent forbidding dread when a shadow falls across the threshold that swings an ax with a bloodcurdling battle cry
It is when in my dream I hear,
“duva!” and suddenly wake up
and sit bolt upright
—but— upon waking.... realizing he’s not there
....then, become aware that I feel exhausted and unwell and— as I attempt it, find it difficult to stand up, as, somehow I feel more exhausted now then before .... and wonder again, still confused, how many days has it been.... ? —so long preoccupied with anxiety and pacing the perimeter of the dungeon floor —but now suddenly, painfully, my stomach starts to growl as I manage to finally get up from the cardboard ‘bed’. The room starts to spin around me; I take a moment and grip the staircase above to steady me and then manage to stumble to the cage to ....check for emails
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