“The Broken Become Wise” by Christina Knowles

Pagan symbol

“The Broken Become Wise”

Images of the long forgotten

Dance across closed eyes

A smoldering cauldron of misbegotten

Tries; faltering, I surmise

Too late the uncommon

Value of dark and stormy skies

The knowledge of the sodden

Soul; the broken become wise

Straining, I see through the mist of fear

The wisdom of the ancient Druid

Seer; her smile is cavalier

My dread is transmuted

Bravely, I appear

Sorrow, as a weed uprooted

Destiny—no mere

List so easily permuted

I, alone, discern

The path of the Ancients

The Celtic sojourn learn

Deafened to mendacious

Guides, I finally adjourn

Rumination’s patience

Prophetic dreams return

Asleep, the mind sagacious

Awakened, my pilgrimage is clear

Avoiding the spiritually reputed

Secluded, I pioneer

The skeptic, conduits refuted

Divining the allelic, finally truth is near

Facts undisputed

Though the Romantic’s quest’s sincere

Morosely, true believers brooded

Still, images of the long forgotten rise

But the broken become wise

And healed, the myth, decries.

—Christina Knowles

“I Dreamed of You Again Last Night” by Christina Knowles

a-searching_for_you-152345I dreamed of you again last night

As always, I searched for you despite

The distracting crowd of others gone

Desperate for just a glimpse in the throng

Above the heart-crushing mob

My hollowness behind a façade

Of going about my ordinary life

But my longing remains a knife

I hide behind all the day

But when the light gives way to gray

I submerge in the slumbering hope

In my subconscious relief, grope

Wondering why, always why

Do you know I cry

Every night whether I see you

Fall in your arms and believe you

When you say you still love me

Or times when you are no where I see

When I wake, my face wet

With tears, unable to forget?

I’m starting to think I never will

The silence from you still

Batters me in the truthful dark

My memory of you leaves a mark

Do you ever dream of me, I wonder

When we meet in our slumber?

Are you really there somehow?

Or do I cross your mind at all now?

Sometimes your face interrupts the dawn

Just a glimpse and then you’re gone

I know it’s me who hides you in the light

But I’ll search for you in my dreams tonight.—Christina Knowles (2015)

Photo retrieved from wallpapersinhq.com

“An Ocean of Possibility” by Christina Knowles

“An Ocean of Possibility”

fishes-underwater-on-a-tropical-beach-wallpaper_3960

Language in a thousand pieces

Inadequate to express

An ocean in a million directions

Overwhelmed but not afraid

The obvious creates meaning

Without limitations

Another recognizes the idea

As my mind reconsiders beauty

A jungle of first impressions

I dream of the possibility

I compose it

This silhouette

From my desires

The passion in me

Turns my reality into

Dreams

—Christina Knowles (2006)

Photo courtesy of Bing Images.

“From Long Ago Dreams” by Christina Knowles

Snagged from www.mnn.com
Snagged from http://www.mnn.com

When once I was lost among the screams

Thrusting through the unbroken succession

I recognized you from long ago dreams

Sinking and swimming up bubbling streams

Struggling against such dark oppression

When once I was lost among the screams

Terrifying images and nightmarish themes

Immersed in the sensory impression

I recognized you from long ago dreams

Demons boast of savage rapines

Resisting their pull of possession

When once I was lost among the screams

Overwhelmingly driven to rabid extremes

Turning, I stumble through the procession

When I recognized you from long ago dreams

Far and away, a glint of light gleams

Gasping for breath, I make my confession

That once I was lost among those screams

When I recognized you from long ago dreams–Christina Knowles  (2014)

Quiet Desperation–Okay, Maybe Not So Quiet by Christina Knowles

I’ve watched a lot of movies and read a lot of stories about people who have had a great awakening or an epiphany and completely rebooted their lives after finding out they have a terminal illness or after almost dying in an accident. I seriously want a reboot. Do I have to get sick or get in a major accident to do it? I hope not.

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If I found out I had a terminal illness and was told I had six months, or even a year to live, I would change my life immediately. So, why don’t I do it now? Why not live the life I want while I am still healthy and able to enjoy it? It seems I am in the majority with this one. The wisdom of Thoreau comes to mind. What’s the famous quote from Walden? “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.”

I don’t think I would go that far. In fact, for the most part I love my life. I think, herein, lies the actual problem. I should clarify–I love my home life. I want more time being with the people I love and doing the things that matter. You see, like many people, I am sick of my job. It is slowly, maybe quickly, now that I think about it, sucking the life out of me. It is overwhelmingly stressful. I am not exaggerating when I say that I think it is literally killing me. Isn’t that kind of like having a terminal illness?

That is a bit of an exaggeration. I don’t feel ill, and I am not in any physical pain, unless you count the anxiety attacks that keep me awake at night. I don’t have the emotional trauma of knowing how little time I have left. But even though I don’t have a doctor giving me a time frame, I could die tomorrow or next week. With my luck, it would be on a Friday right after work.

But the truth is that this slow death is not traumatic enough for me to take a risk. Why don’t I have the guts to live the life I want to live? Am I enslaved by my own comfort? Like many Americans, I work to pay for things to make me happy because my work makes me unhappy. It’s a trap. I have thousands of dollars of student loans to get an education, so I can pay back my student loans. Sometimes I wish I never had a college education and a career. Yes, I know. There are homeless and starving people who would love to trade places with me. Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of–I know my life could be so much worse, but is that any way to live? Afraid that things could be worse? Am I afraid to give up the material luxuries to which I’ve become accustomed to the point that I would kill myself working to keep them? How important are they that now my daydreams consist of working in a little flower shop and going home carefree to a tiny two-room house, riding my bike because I can’t afford a car that is likely to break down at any moment. And I will sleep well in my tiny house, nothing to panic about. Like Thoreau, I want to “live deliberately . . .and not, when I [come] to die, discover that I had not lived . . . I [want] to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.”

But I am rudely awakened from this fantasy by the thought of health insurance and retirement accounts and veterinary bills. There is no such thing as carefree. Were we even meant for that kind of life? Isn’t it conflict and struggle that make us thrive? Or at the very least give us the contrasts that make us appreciate the good times? I mean, would I even love being at home so much if I hadn’t just left work? I don’t know, but I would like to try. It’s not like I want to quit working and striving. I just want something that doesn’t feel like it’s hurtling me at full-speed toward the grave.

So I again turn to Thoreau for advice: “I learned this, at least, by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.” But I have never been good at taking advice.I find that I am not really a risk-taker when it comes down to it. Although I have intermittent lapses, I am practical and responsible. I also fear the unknown. Even if what I have seems intolerable at times, I suspect that the alternative is more intolerable. Maybe this is just a mid-life crisis, but if it is, it’s a little late. I see the hourglass emptying, and I know if I’m going to change, it has to be now. But I don’t have the courage or faith or maybe enough desperation, so I guess I have no choice but to go to the grave with the song still in me.–Christina Knowles

All quotes from Henry David Thoreau’s “Walden: Or Life in the Woods”

Photo of Retro Bicycle in Front of Cafe – Fine Art Photo Entitled Quaint – 8. Photo of Retro Bicycle in Front of Cafe – Fine Art Photo Entitled Quaint www.etsy.com

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