Say a prayer...

Friday, 11 November, Year 8 d.Tr. | Author: Mircea Popescu

Say a prayer for von Herder - his mare's run away. Yet he'll walk 'til he finds her... his darling... his stray.

Though the river's in flood, and the roads all awash, and the bridges break up, and the Sun's setting Boschi. And there's nothing to follow. There's nowhere to go, for she's gone like the Summer... she's gone like that snow. And the crickets are breaking his heart with their song as the day caves in and the night is all wrong.

Did he dream, was it she who went galloping past and bent down the fern and broke open the grass ? Or who printed the mud with the iron and gold that he nailed to her feet when he was her lord ? And although she goes grazing a minute away he tracks her all night, he tracks her all day. Oh! Blind to her presence except to compare his injury here with her punishment there... Then at home on a branch in the highest tree a songbird sings out so suddenly.

Ah the Sun is warm and the soft winds ride on the willow trees by the riverside. Oh the world is sweet, as sweet as wide and she's there where the light and the darkness divide. And the steam's coming off her, she's huge and she's shy, and she steps on the Moon when she paws at the sky. And she comes to his hand but she's not really tame, she longs to be lost. He longs for the same. And she'll bolt and she'll plunge through the first open pass to roll and to feed in the sweet mountain grass. Or she'll make a break for the high plateau where there's nothing above like there's nothing below...

But it's time for the burden, it's time for the whip. Will she walk through the flame, will she fit in his grip ? So he binds himself to the galloping mare as she binds herself to the rider's snare. Beyond notions of space there's a left, and a right. There is no time, but there's still a day. And a night. When he leans on her neck and he whispers low "Whither thou goest so I will go".

And they turn as one, and they head for the plain with no need for the whip, ah, there's no need for the rein. Now the clasp of this union - who fastens it tight ? Who snaps it asunder, the very next night ?

Some see the rider, some see the mare, while you think that love's like smoke, beyond all repair. But his darling said "Leonard, just let it go by, that old silhouette on the great Western sky".

So I pick out a tune and they move right along, and they're gone like the smoke... and they're gone like this song.

  1. Hieronymus. Obviously. []
Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte
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11 Responses

  1. [...] comments to which are already written, and shall be passed by reference : the love ; and the girls. Category: Zsilnic Comments feed : RSS 2.0. Leave your own comment below, or [...]

  2. [...] and foremost of herself. The woman enters relationships to lose herself, not to find herself, or as the great Martin Luther King once said "don't be the person that you came with". [↩]No, obviously women don't enter into [...]

  3. [...] to the mountain, won't he ? And the sandals break and the feet blister and the flesh screams under whip and toil. Wouldn't it have been so much better had the mountain come ? I ask you, don't you think so ? [...]

  4. [...] would be mistaken, and it would be a different mistake in each case. Mistaking Phil Collins for the absent rider or Ben Affleck for Quentin Tarantino, or Tolkien for Mosesvii is a confusion as to relative sizes, [...]

  5. [...] medium that the latter female state ended up producing. Under the demanding if unyielding grip of a better rider Maude would still sing, and perhaps her song'd even be worth hearing ; that the only rider to be [...]

  6. [...] then there was a night, and a day. Childhood was the last time I stared out the window this intently waiting for someone to [...]

  7. [...] The woman, alone in a lonely shop I might well have been the first customer to disturb that day takes me in for a second, excuses herself, calls someone on the phone and returns to announce that yes, diez por ciento, which is the Latino conventional signal of "you can have the tax and we won't report the sale". Because what, no elaborate glassware ever broke before or something ?! So there you go, suck it pantsuit government, I and some guy fucked you out of "your" tax tee hee. It's goneiii. Forever, just like that song. [...]

  8. [...] unexpected cock up 17yo snatch, as naturally correct a fit as mountain spring water. Then there's a night, and a day, and in that day if she Mom ? she's the running kind and if she Butterfield 8 she's the mourning [...]

  9. [...] you thought you had, I'm sure you did... but then that "endlessly long list" was gone, not even with the dawn. It was gone in mere minutes. And then... there's another minute. After it... comes another. What [...]

  10. [...] : from whence the natural light emerges until such a time as it dies down, there's a day. Then there's a night. Yes ? "Simple" [...]

  11. [...] there's only one of me ; and so, so many of them. Let's then jointly say a prayer -- not for von Herder, this time, but for the herd of matter itself. Matter, material, endless, infinite, ubiquitous, [...]

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