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Open Poetry #50
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In Pursuit of Quintessence – Verse I
| Open Poetry #50 |
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In Pursuit of Quintessence – Verse I |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana 
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I have touched only a small part of me, nothing of myself, though I have lived these many years nothing have I learned that reflects good unto me. But I have a secret, informational at its best, outrageous maybe in the audacity of the seeker. But I know of a place. A place, from beginning to end with distant hills and lonesome valleys where my name has been written in the dust, no wind to disturb the fragile writing. It is there that I travel now. I seek Quintessence, not tangible like gold; no, the place I seek is concerned with my Innerself. It is a far away, treacherous journey, I travel as a babe in the womb. My steps falter, my limbs are weak; they are immersed in old thinking which I must purge. Not an easy task this flushing out of the old, for I am not sure of its replacement. I only know I must continue on this journey. To stop putting one foot in front of the other, metaphorically speaking, is impossible, and, I would sooner die than give up the search. How do I know of this place, this Quintessence? What foolhardiness causes me to seek what I might not be able to find? What do I expect out of all this, if and when I arrive at this place, this Quintessence? Why give up everything, society and its ills, the warmth of a woman's arms, the smell of a blood-red rose? Questions, questions, questions, questions, trying to make me see where I err. Foolishly trying to blind my vision, turn my head, confuse my thoughts. Impossible. I have read the omens, I have felt the burn of the soul, I have seen my name artistically written, each letter of a different hue, making it unique above all, breathtaking in its flawlessness. Me, in name only, complete. This is what I have set out to find. A oneness with my quintessence. Though the journey may be fraught with peril I tarry not, I press ahead into the labyrinth of my Id, to bend down before my name and breathe myself in. These are the words of one possessed, heed them, take care to understand them, know for a certainty shallowness has no place on this journey. I am stone-hard where it counts, my passion to reach my goal unbending, my desire concentrated, Still, in the distance the woeful sound of a mighty timber wolf howls his mournful dirge, a warning perhaps. I hold my head high breathe in the thin mountain air and set out toward its end. ©July 8, 2010 / Jerry Pat Bolton |
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| © Copyright 2018 Jerry Pat Bolton - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Lori Grosser Rhoden Member Patricius
since 2009-10-10
Posts 10202Fair to middlin' of nowhere |
Wow Jerry! Double wow you wrote it 8 years ago! I would have thought that one was hot off the presses. Write on ! ~L |
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