Absolute

Time will stay

then, absolute

like the oak of youth

once climbed in hope of

finding a higher plane.

Since truth, once heard

can never be unheard, or

rendered obsolete.

The heart, engaged

does not relinquish what

once, freely given

from compulsion

may now ache with derision

even if the other may

seek banishment or

execution.

What was, once,

will always and

forever more be

the figment of your self.

A life's own absolute

illusion.

Ken e Bujold

© 2022

Reviews

[Laz K.]

Truth, self, time - you managed to link these great philosophical topics and bring them together under one roof in this poem. That alone is quite an achivement. "the oak of youth/once climbed in hope of/finding a higher plane" - this image is very vivid and visual, and it creates a very nostalgic tone. At the end of the day, we don't really know anything important about ourselves or life, do we? We just have our story, our memories, and our questions.

[Ken e Bujold]

that pretty much sums it up. what we know is what we know, but what it is isn't much of anything
read morethat pretty much sums it up. what we know is what we know, but what it is isn't much of anything

ken

[Fabian G. Franklin]

The past is built to last. Whether love survives, that's another matter. We will not; at least not the we that now means us. I think love will endure and the past will remain. The future is what we will make it. The past is what we made it. That can hurt and give us hope.

[Ken e Bujold]

thanks for the read Fabian.

[Stella Armour]

Well you yes you can't unhear words you have heard, truth or not and the past may be interpreted differently by others involved in it.
And your vision of yourself is probaly an illusion as to reality, but what the heck if you are happy...

[W. Barrett Munn]

I am reminded of my own youth when right seemed such a simple matter and arrogance a trait to be admired and emulated.

Winston

[John Prophet]

True words all Ken. Nice write!
JP

[Stuart Munro]

Hi Ken , as usual Great poetry , fav line ,, the figment Of yourself a life’s absolute illusion

[Lisasview]

Good morning Ken,
For some reason your poem coincides so well well with my last few days reading my fathers fantastic diary. (He died at 96 years of age) and, I am moved by your words because they ring so true.
As I type this I realise that I am not being clear... There is something about the way your words are written that reminds me of my father and the way he thought.
Really so good dear Ken,
Lisa, thinking with my heart aching....

[Ken e Bujold]

thank you Lisa. I can imagine how reading words of one so long from one so loved can both stimulate and sadden one. Enjoy your reading, and so thankful you enjoyed mine
Ken

[JD Major]

Optimistic and nicely written!
JD

[Ken e Bujold]

thanks for stopping by JD

[John the Baptist]

Had some trouble with this one. We are talking spiritual terms here, but I can't tell whether the spirituality is Christian, Buddhist or something else. The title infers a point of existence where time doesn't exist at all. If truth cannot be unheard, can it still be forgotten? The penultimate verse did resonate with me, since I believe in continuity despite the forgetfulness. The last verse is definitely either Hindu or Buddhist. Damn it, Ken, you're going Sartre on me, and my attitude toward Sartre is the best way to read him is drunk. You still won't understand him, but then, you won't care.

[Ken e Bujold]

Now what to say to this review John. Could start by aksing, have you been reading Sartre this evening?
Find it interesting you find so many different spiritual or mystic points of view in the piece. I have studied them all to varying degrees through the years, and so could well be that I have subconsciously inserted some into the writing. If so, then great, gives more depth to the poem. But how to soothe your poor, philosophically aching melon? Won't say any poem has one clear meaning, but can tell you what the genesis of the write was: quite simply this, once a truth has been spoken it can't be unspoken. It can be overwritten, or replaced by another, but still once birthed it remains forever, whether we wish to acknowledge it or not. Add to that, a busted love, no matter how acrimonious, somewhere in the well, maybe deep deep deep, the initial act of falling for another still exists because it existed once. Follow, Sartre I know, I know. The last verse is my simple poetical voice stating this fact, the rest of the poem is my not-so-simple poetic voice needing 19 lines to get to the point. Hope this helps, if not its Chriuddu Mufismist
Ken