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Contemplations on the Sublime

~Ozy~

PC's Unofficial Poetry Critic
5,246
Posts
20
Years
    • A little more abstract than most of my pieces, but I was aiming to capture the feel of a gap I did recently. The choppiness is fully intended for that effect. Read, review, hopefully enjoy.

    I am perfect. Caught in the moment, I am flawless, pure, uninterrupted motion without hesitation, thought or form to restrain me. I am endless. I am a god.

    Adrenaline flows though my veins. I cannot stop, I don't want to stop, no one can possibly stop me. I'm walking in midair. The wind carries my feet forward, upward, onward in my search for the sublime.

    Grass lies behind me, sand lies in front of me, and below, water. But now, there is only air, only wind, only me. Thought ceases. There is the moment. I am there.

    In the silence of my perfection, I stand apart. Alone. Myself. I need no one else, cannot imagine reliance upon others. It is my body, and my body is one with all around me, the beautiful world that I do not make mine, that is mine.

    Grass. Grass is a weed that people care for with slavish devotion. My feet leave it behind and it ceases to be part of my existence. It is brown and stubbly and I forget it as I step away.

    Water. Water is the blood of life. It exists only in the memory of a past life. Now it is below me and it is unimportant. I am apart from it. I am above it and it lies below me, unconcerned with me. It does not matter.

    Air. Air is my existence. Air is what matters. Air is around me and I am air just as I am many other things. I am alone. I am not a god. I am God. I am expression. I am art. Your art, my art, the poetry of Pablo Neruda and the amateurish paintings of Adolf Hitler.

    Air is a part of me now, as are all things that I have not left behind. Grass. Water. People and places and things. I am the world.

    Sand. Sand is gritty. It is harsh. It gets everywhere. Air no longer matters, but the plume of sand as I step off of the wind does. It is my world now. Brown. Damp. Soft. I feel it in my hands, in my shoulder.

    The moment ends, and I am still perfect. I am God.
    Click to expand...
     
    Last edited:

    Kalylia

    Pokemon Breeder
    893
    Posts
    18
    Years
    • *smiles* Nice, love. I think you captured what you were attempting to, which is always a good thing, ne? As always, I urge you to be careful doing you insane pking, but that's just me. *laughs a bit* Again, a nice peice of work. The only thing I noticed was the part about the grass being "brown and stubby". It just didn't quite meld with the general tone and connotation of the rest of the peice.
     

    Lily

    ◕ ‿‿ ◕ double rainbow.
    3,329
    Posts
    19
    Years
    • You have an interesting, fluent flow I enjoyed throughout the piece, with the stubborn 'perfect' tone evenly incorporated. I don't quite get, however, why you chose grass, water, air, and sand, as those aren't usually received as the primary elements...I'm rambling here, though, so disregarding the trivial points, this was a lovely work of art. Splendid job! ^_^
     
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