Truth Beauty & the Rose

[karene]

Truth Beauty & the Rose ...
Is a Rose as Beautiful as an Obsession?

her mouth blooming out of the quiet vase of her body like a bud of a rose
she was climbing up those branches
this way and that
laying hands on one flower and then another

I enter the ballroom wearing a black eye-slit mask
through long heavy curtains
Many faceless bodies writhe in frenzy about me
like buzzing insects swarming up to the light
desperately full of desire
wanting fulfillment

wondering why it is so dark in their light

The swarm picks me up and makes my body move
in foreign, awkward ways
it is intoxicating, delicious.. to be a puppet
I am drugged by their pretty illusions
delirious with each sweet sip of myth that i taste from my wine glass
I am lost in their madness, a whirl of falsehoods and triviality.

My eyes shut behind the mask to try to escape into blackness
the sound seeps into my mind like poison
and distracts me from emptiness
I struggle to open mine eyes again, for I am scared of that prevailing echo

Through sticky eyes (for clever silken threads do they weave)
I watch a Man who moves slowly
holding a red rose against the white of his shirt
a blood spill a torn twisted heart
his movements are gentle and languid
so different against the thronging dancers
the din of the orchestra subsides
and is forgotten

"What a beautiful rose" I murmured to the stranger
"What a beautiful rose" he repeated looking up and down my body wrapped in tight silken cloth

He then took my body and whirled me around in space
holding me close and firm
there i could not escape, nor did i want to
as he whispered truths into my ear
the boundaries of the ballroom disappeared with my black mask
of preconceived meaning, identity and body
we existed everywhere and all at once! The Man, the Woman and The Rose.

together we danced huge and monstrous in the cosmos
the focal point, our two bodies, waves rippling through us and out beyond
meshing us together this wondrous fabric of space

The Universe is intelligent and breathed to infinity
that the truth of the rose was
the beauty of the rose
and the rose was me
'that which your eyes see are many separate waves, but that which you know is that all are one, each wave extending from every other wave'

I felt far removed from the illusory beauty of my senses
once True Beauty illuminated me, to knowing.
It is something to make a few objects beautiful
but far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and medium through which we look
to understand what it actually is and how we see it
that is the highest of all arts.

an obsession can be more beautiful than a rose,
if such an obsession
allows one to view the rose from a true perspective ...

By Karene Howie

[karene]

We stumbled upon an interesting website on the quantum physicist, Richard Feynman. Below is a link to a video interview with Feynman in which he talks about how the beauty of a rose is deepened with scientific understanding.
Suprisingly relevant to my poem!

Check out:
http://www.basicfeynman.com/interviews.html

Cheers,
Karene
(no i am not mad nor angry, just been wanting to use the evil face!)