The Impossible

Another thesis on Levinas’ Infinite Other.


 

What magnetism – the impossible. The flipside of reality.

I am fascinated by what exists apart from me, like the cold, milky galaxies – and how awe-striking, that I see those bright stars in the eyes of another, another with hands like me, lips like me, hopes and dreams and pains like me.

How could it be that you and I exist – move, breathe, are – in the same space? How did the rules of Things permit this? How have the seas not halved and the skies not raptured? How is it possible for such magnitude to fit a frail human heart? You and I are a question to the universe.

I see the tenderness of mellow twilight in you. I see the coy lapping of the shores in you. I see the invisible embrace of the wind in you. I see the crimson vein that goes on flowing with happiness and sorrow in you. You are the horizon of what I know and understand and am. You are the World’s Edge.

You are the beautiful impossible.

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Snippet Series #17: Nightmares

I’ve been looking for this for a while, and it’s purely chance that I stumbled across a copy of it.

This is the very first poem that I wrote that made sense. Everything prior to this was required by class and/or was pretty infantile, in my opinion. Literally, lines were like “The rat scurried under the hat/So that he could run away from the cat”.

I wrote this in second year high school. Some of the verses just suddenly jumped into my mind while I was sleepily listening in class, and for several days, I couldn’t shake the words out of my head. So I wrote it all down. I probably finished writing the whole thing during break time. Ever since I wrote this, my writing has been noticeably better. It’s weird.

I didn’t know what the poem was about while I was writing it – I just know that the images were powerful and honestly kind of disturbing. It was only after I had a friend read it that it was pointed out to me that it was about poverty. It’s pretty obvious when you see it now, but when I wrote it, I just saw the voiceless suffering and the cold, detached outcasting. I still remember how unreal it felt to see those images in my head, but then… this is what’s happening in the world today.

I’ve edited it a little so that it flows just a little bit better.


 

The nightmares I had as I lay

Haunt me even into the day

Rain has stopped, clouds left the sky

But tears still flow from my eye

 

The world overflows with the sun’s beam;

I am blinded by the harsh gleam

The world sounds of sweet melodies

But all I hear are cries of misery

 

They eat from a feast and drink wine

She eats the scraps they left behind

He is naked; He has no clothes

Blessed treasure are the rags they loathe

 

 

They live in mansions of grandeur

She dwells on the streets with lepers

Their children play in flowered fields

I see the bloody knife he wields

 

The biting chill is his blanket

He’d be warmer in a casket

The world sleeps on beds of roses

She sleeps with flies, dogs and corpses

 

Starved flies come to feast on his skin

Hungry worms eat him from within

She is lost in a world of black

Lying dead and cold on her back

Snippet Series #16: Ink

Getting inspiration from a pen and paper is like extracting water from the air. Not impossible, but not easy either.


It’s been weeks. That’s too long for me.

I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to just let my thoughts flow from the hidden spring of my mind, through the stream of my fingertips around the hard plastic of my ballpoint, and unto the white sea of paper slowly being filled with the colorful words of black ink.

No, I was a fool to say that.

What human, upon tasting the sweetness and feeling the rush of inspiration pump into their veins, can fail to remember the awesome beauty of simple words strung together in an attempt to hold a moment for just a little longer? No one can forget the freedom one gets and the power one feels upon indulging in their imagination. Those who claim to have forgotten have never really felt it. How can one forget? To experience it is to want it continuously, to be lost in addiction to it.

Snippet Series #15: Imaginary Companion

I’m just sitting here wishing I could draw you. Wishing that I could hold the memory of your beautiful grin just long enough for that. But no – like a needle pulling thread you surface and dive into the colorful fibers of my unstable imagination. It seems that the harder I grip, the quicker the grains of your image run out of my mind’s hands. Your memory is a fragile butterfly that I may only ever watch and never hold, lest I kill it. The ribbons of my thought run and flutter, sketching your face on the canvas of the sky, but it is all blown away by the wind. I delve into the sweet pool of watercolored dreams and blend into the paints of a fantasy I pretend to be reality. All of it is a delightful illusion that shifts like the shades of the deep ocean.

Snippet Series #14: Dragon’s Wrath

I think something was making me bitter when I wrote this back in high school.


 

Dragon eyes of fierce despise:

You cough up flames of painful memories

And ravage the towns and peaceful valleys.

Your wrath kills kings and massacres nations,

You guardian of hell and master of demons.

You feed on the tragedies of mankind

And wreck creation, leaving nothing behind.

Soul of hate, you feast on Earth,

Flourish on the misery of one’s birth.

Dragon – you idol of of angry hate

Seal each soul’s irrevocable fate.

How dare you burn and bite my heart?

You are the Da Vinci of this dark art.

Snippet Series #12: [Untitled]

Move in the realm of endless reality

To drown in a dream I never knew began.

Sink into the silk of time and space

And ride the wave of a stand still.

Nonsense overwhelms and engulfs

The threadbare lucidity of blindfolded existence –

A song is produced, a symphony that transcends

The logic of mind and physical body.

All that I’ve ever known cascades into bright oblivion,

And an enlightenment kisses my soul.

I lose form and melt into the breath of the universe,

Becoming one with a truth I could not before bare.


Wrote this way back in third year high school. Aya told me to post it before, but I only really thought of doing it now. I was basically trying to mimic what dreams felt like for me, in a way.