White Light Black Light: Truth Beauty Roses By Karene Howie

Saturday, March 19, 2005

Truth Beauty Roses By Karene Howie

Is a Rose as Beautiful as an Obsession? her mouth blooming out of the quiet vase of her body like a bud of a rose she was climbing up those branches this way and that laying hands on one flower and then another I enter the ballroom wearing a black eye-slit mask through long heavy curtains Many faceless bodies writhe in frenzy about me like buzzing insects swarming up to the light| desperately full of desire wanting fulfillment wondering why it is so dark in their light The swarm picks me up and makes my body move in foreign, awkward ways it is intoxicating, delicious.. to be a puppet I am drugged by their pretty illusions delirious with each sweet sip of myth that i taste from a goblet I am lost in their madness, a whirl of falsehoods and triviality. My eyes shut behind the mask to try to escape into blackness| the sound seeps into my mind like poison and distracts me from emptiness I struggle to open mine eyes again, for I am scared of that prevailing echo Through sticky eyes (for clever silken threads do they weave) I watch a Man who moves slowly holding a red rose against the white of his shirt a blood spill a torn twisted heart his movements are gentle and languid so different against the thronging dancers the din of the orchestra subsides and is forgotten "What a beautiful rose" I murmured to the stranger "What a beautiful rose" he repeated looking up and down my body wrapped in tight silken cloth He then took my body and whirled me around in space holding me close and firm there i could not escape, nor did i want to as he whispered truths into my ear the boundaries of the ballroom disappeared with my black mask of preconceived meaning, identity and body we existed everywhere and all at once! The Man, the Woman and The Rose. together we danced huge and monstrous in the cosmos the focal point, our two bodies waves rippling through us and out beyond meshing us together this wondrous fabric of space The Universe is intelligent and breathed to infinity that the truth of the rose was the beauty of the rose and the rose was me 'that which your eyes see are many separate waves, but that which you know is that all are one, each wave extending from every other wave' I felt far removed from the illusory beauty of my senses once True Beauty illuminated me, to knowing. I now know cause, while others who sense are only aware of effects which they can never know Such that is Truth, that is Beauty. It is something to make a few objects beautiful but far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and medium through which we look to understand what it actually is and how we see it that is the highest of all arts. Thus I feel an obsession can be more beautiful than a rose, if such an obsession allows one to view the rose from a true perspective.

// posted by Alice @ Saturday, March 19, 2005