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Pride’s Fall

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Pride’s Fall Empty Pride’s Fall

Post  mikeschultz Mon May 20 2013, 16:45

Nothing so difficult as a beginning
In poesy, unless perhaps the end;
For oftentimes when Pegasus seems winning
The race, he sprains a wing, and down we tend,
Like Lucifer when hurl’d from heaven for sinning;
Our sin the same, and hard as his to mend,
Being pride, which leads the mind to soar too far,
Till our own weakness shows us what we are.

“Don Juan,” Canto the Fourth, I
Lord George Gordon Byron

Sunrise follows sunset to bracket the night
And all the hours in between spent writing,
Spent living a life the day would never know.
The empty unwritten lines of novels
We intend to write someday when we find the time
More a matter of process than winning
Acclaim or monetary reward or love,
And when our scripts would be erotic fare,
We allow Eros to guide our pens, finding
Nothing so difficult as a beginning.

Who of us would dare to write words with a pen,
When such script making were banned and outlawed?
What if no one cared to read of living love
Or loving life? Who then would write for hours
Beginning the day at the end of a long night
Spent writing poems we pray will not offend
Sensitivities, but make one pause and think
Of the source of the story, and about
Where to begin writing – there’s no best trend
In poesy, unless perhaps the end.

But then, beginning in the middle works too,
Standing there looking forward, and thinking
Of the beginning as a good place to start.
Beginning, middle or end, the story
Unfolds and enrapts the writer and finds its way.
And to believe the tales they are spinning,
The writer’s imagination peoples scenes
With actors in realistic fiction,
Based on silent motivations, listening,
For oftentimes when Pegasus seems winning ,

And with that gallant stead we wing the blue skies,
Over and above the mountains we fly,
Proud as peacocks of our own abilities
When all the while we lay upon the back
Of one of imagination’s greatest creatures.
Tied as we are to the fates we portend,
Pretending to know the importance of myths
And tales of fantastic delights, of love,
And life, and before Pegasus can end
The race, he sprains a wing, and down we tend.

Falling, falling, falling – how far must we fall?
How long will our vanity sustain us
When at birth we inherit the Fall from grace?
And how will we not be judged as we judge,
Tempted by devilish desires to play as God,
To create the support underpinning
That brings one to think of immortality
As one’s right and due, we who might account
For the cost of humanity’s child, now grinning
Like Lucifer when hurl’d from heaven for sinning.

Such perversity – the model for Poe’s Imp –
Grows from the seeds of our dire discontents ,
The shadows of dreams that no one dared to dream,
And hopes born to never know fruition,
And he, Lucifer, was our guide on our way back
To the middle, as where we found the end –
At the beginning. The rest of the story,
As Paul Harvey would tell us, Lucifer’s
Pride was damned impossible to defend.
Our sin the same, and hard as his to mend,

We find ourselves recalling Pegasus’ wings
And the uplifting ride astride his back,
When we were sure the one center of our pride
Was we ourselves, and no one else came close.
Bound to know our imaginative ambition’s
Furthest limits, as an ancient shofar
Sounds to clear our way through the pressing masses,
But none may know the spans of vanity –
the one flaw we admit to in our memoir
Being pride, which leads the mind to soar too far.

PRIDE! PRIDE! How like us to be so afflicted,
Able to see shortcomings in others
While blind to personal deficiencies as
Characters in an erotic novel.
The days and nights between sunrises and sunsets
Spent writing as if toward a guiding star,
Often forgetting in our quest for our words
That we are seldom masters of diction,
Feeling at times as if we were a tsar,
Till our own weakness shows us what we are.


Michael E. Schultz © March 7, 2010 (1706)


mikeschultz
mikeschultz

Posts : 503
Author Credits : 942
Accolades : 13
Join date : 2011-11-11
Age : 70
Location : Crooksville, OH

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