"Love and History(After the Revolution)"
by Tim Kavi
when across
the fragrance
of time
our forefathers
jumped
there was the great
undoing
of greatness
creating history
never looked
so easy
the morning after
the blood in the
streets was washed
clean
somewhere
in a back alley
in a small bed
a man lies
dreaming
perchance
clinging
to a desperate hope
that life might
get better
he is history
next to him a woman
lies sleeping
they are so far apart
she longs to show him
her loving heart
romance
she is love
he recalls
plainly the blessed
rains pouring
remembering
when the drops
were wetter
cleansing his
very soul
in a land
once so free
but now
there is no curing
even the caged
birds
sing the same
longing
just to be
the man
dreams he is in
a cool dark
place
really it is
a prison
in fetter
but there
is no way out
until the next
revolution's
dialectical dance
it burns at his heart
for he truly
sings to be free
as it was in love
when he first met her.
brief poet's comment: in this I see the wheel of dialectics, inescapable, yet history progresses, or is progress regress? I also see the collapse of history, without the rising of love. I see the revolutions and dialectics of masculine warlike desires in the lust for power (by any who embrace it), becoming one sided and corrupt. Such are ultimately and hopefully swallowed up by the truer power of the feminine--that is always only nearby if only a man (or such) would open themselves up to the power of eternal woman !
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