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UnspokenHow pure, your being.
Misfortunes like drifting snow,
And still you are warm.

When grey packs of misery
hound me, I picture your smile.

My familiar,
silence. A shadow dancer,
the partner for me.

Why bother questioning?
He dances flawlessly.
Mirror
Motionless, the pool
has trapped the vault of heaven,
spread before my feet.
Pioneer
The power of flight
begins with a child's fantasy,
the world left behind.
Air Force Revisited.
Flying fortresses,
dense enough to deflect light
yet insubstantial

Water drops suspended in
the high, thin air, wind sculpted.

(Originally:

Flying fortresses,
solid enough to impede light
yet made of nothing.

Water drops suspended in
the high, thin air, wind sculpted.)
On The PodiumThe art of conductivity
as the maestro explained,
is that the man with the baton

serves as a lightning rod,
earthing intuitions from god.
Hypnopompic
A key too rusted
to turn, a door once solid,
now rotting away.

As sentience stirs again,
the dream's images decay.
The Ladder Of JacobJacob dreamed. Though we may know nothing about what kind of man this father of patriarchs was, the record of his dream has been preserved. We have no way of knowing if this was indeed ever a dream that a man experienced. The story has him traveling alone, so artists have portrayed him. In the ancient text he settles for the night, resting his head on a stone.
As he sleeps the vision unfolds, he sees a ladder that reaches toward heaven from the earth, a ladder by which angels are ascending and descending.

He hears the voice of god, so he believes. The god tells him how remarkable he is. We might understand this vision as an allegory of his
Wilderness
A moment, unowned
it seems. In Siberia,
maybe. Winter sun

etched pale on a glass plate,
mysterious yet empty.
Ladders
The rungs rise and fall,
the direction is decided
by the starting point

so the climber discovers:
The way up is the way down.
The Way
Ends and beginnings
cycle perpetually.
Yang dances with Yin.
AfterwordFunerary goods
always include coin to pay
the ferry man's fee.

What if we had always been wrong,
If none waited by the river?

The end of the line
had ever seemed likely
to leave the traveler

abandoned in empty space,
no hope of resolution.
CadenzaSuppose each one of us older than the stars,
suppose that we are other than the ragged beggars we seem,
suppose that our engulfing slumber, our inner darkness,
is constantly erupting with the vanity of dreams.

Consider those uncounted aeons swallowed in the oceans
of that virtuality, where we, the ever drowning mariners,
must cling to the absurd shapes we call reality.

Will we, unknowing captives, ever be free?
Has liberty become our cage of captivity?
Oh yes, we writhe, our nakedness become despair.
as our frenzied touching reveals that nothing's there.
Stranded 2
The end of the line
had ever seemed likely
to leave the traveller

abandoned in empty space,
no hope of resolution.
VisionaryInfinite wonders
beheld by the finite eye,
just for a moment.
Willing FleshFlesh the means, spirit the end,
yet still the unintended. While deep
embedded in the pulsing rhythms
of the body's routine life, it transcends
physicality, flourishing in realities
never imagined before. Spirit is the key
to unlock the heavy door, to make
the great discovery of joy.
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More from *AlecBell

All Things WappingJeremy Hunt is wise and fair,
Just as honest as Tony Blair.

He failed to fathom Rupert Murdoch's tricks
but still he knew which orifice to lick.
Journey's EndTattered banners flap and rattle
at the mastheads, tugged by unceasing
rivers of air. The sodden hulk
can only wallow, helpless before
the fierce teeth at the cliff foot
as breakers shove the craft
towards destruction.

All the ship's canvas consumed,
stitched into shrouds for too many
burials at sea.

The ship of fools meets
at last with destiny.
Endurance
His destination
seems never to come closer.
What waits for him there?
RemainingWhen they cleared the overgrown graveyard, they thought of space for the living, not for the dead. No-one could remember when the gravediggers had last dug one of their narrow pits, to bury the evidence of mortality.

All were agreed. A tended, open space to cater for the needs of the living was more appropriate now. Incineration seemed more spiritual than the protracted chemistry of decay, even if disposal rather than salvation was the new order of the day.

Nettles, briar and thistles were uprooted, exposing weathered headstones to the light of day. It was decided that this ancient masonry should be accorded some respect, so the stones wer
Monument
The salvaged stone,
weathered to blankness, records
anonymity.

Featured in Groups:

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June 1, 2012
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Ephemeral

:iconalecbell:

The moment blossoms.
As rapidly it will fade,
its petals decayed.

The moment always returns
with the ever turning wheel.
:iconalecbell:
A commentary on Life Is Beautiful by =JunobyJuno


You can see the deviation at full size here: [link]
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:iconchryssalis:
Mood: Love *chryssalis Jun 2, 2012
Wonderful,Alec!!:clap:
Reply
:iconalecbell:
*AlecBell Jun 2, 2012
Thank you very much, Athina :iconkissmote:
Reply
:iconmeflyingfree:
*MeFlyingFree Jun 1, 2012  Professional Artisan Crafter
Beautifully written!:clap:
Reply
:iconalecbell:
*AlecBell Jun 1, 2012
Thanks Holly.Juno's picture is too beautiful to spoil!
Reply
:iconmeflyingfree:
*MeFlyingFree Jun 2, 2012  Professional Artisan Crafter
It is very lovely!
Reply
:iconalecbell:
*AlecBell Jun 2, 2012
Indeed!
Reply
:iconmeflyingfree:
*MeFlyingFree Jun 2, 2012  Professional Artisan Crafter
:)
Reply
:icontrippy4u:
*Trippy4U Jun 1, 2012
:clap: Well written Alec.
Reply
:iconalecbell:
*AlecBell Jun 1, 2012
Thanks Richard :bow:
Reply
:iconvertigoart:
=VertigoArt Jun 1, 2012
This is a beautiful piece collaborated with a exquisite photo.

May I add this to a group I run? I am looking for superior art and I believe this may fit my criteria. It is a new group, but if you are hesitant come on over and read a bit. #RecognizeSuperiority

Thank you

w
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