Monday, April 20, 2015

The Way

© 2015  Steve King
All rights reserved

Everything I read,
the musics that I hear,
grave statuaries gesturing to me
depictions, portraiture,
the call of this or that philosophy—
each of these, you say,
reflect a distillation
of some perfected world.

But only through another’s heart, I say.

These will not levitate me on their own
to some, or other, supposed place or time,
undoing what the world has done to me,
forestalling what it yet may do,
or often breach the shadows
that flow across each moment
of even the most casual of the minds.

Such beauties as here be
are like the concrete guards,
or steel fence poles,
or rounding moats,
or bright signposts
or winding stairs,
or dreaming notes
that channel this journey
through what I hope
shall one day be a life—
guides only to my wandering
toward that far pathway
dimly held in my present guesswork,
yet one that has been ever laid for me.
Though never on my journeys
in that quest for latent grandeurs,
hidden still in that stubborn array,
shall I expect some sudden perfect vista to appear.

Those worlds barely foreshadowed
by all these things
I read and see and hear:
those things that pose between our meanings—
dark for me, for you so blinding clear.

(A new poem to be shared in the Imaginary Garden


  1. Dear Steve, the end here felt especially strong--to put this wondering into the context of a relationship and the difference of perspectives-- the more introspective and the more gung-ho as it were. I also especially like the listing of the stanza re beautiful things-- such an interesting and compelling set of combinations. I am on a phone on the train right now so commenting is not very easy but thanks for the beautiful poem. K.

  2. Absolutely breath-taking..!! The entire poem is written beautifully :D

  3. 'dimly held in my present guesswork'

    What a lovely phrase that is...

  4. sometimes we are lost and sometimes we are contend........

  5. Perception of art (and of the world) can be so different from one person to another.... Sometimes, worlds apart.

    Love the last line...

  6. When all I read is of dark days, this poem rings as a better kind of truth. I love the musicality of your words.

  7. Oh the stanza that begins "such beauties as here be" really speaks to me, Steve. Beautifully done.

  8. I love your philosophical road you take. The life's a road that might look different at times. The passages of that road are those we have to walk.. The rhythm of you lines are mesmerising an mimic those of my feet on a path.

  9. The classical structure is a good framework for your subject, Steve. The rhyme is musical and unforced, never rote, the images are indeed statuesque, caryatids under the weight they so gracefully support of an unwinding, an undoing, which examples, however brilliant, can't correct, or what other rooms they may illuminate. They are someone else's far off light attempting to pierce the dark, where the only lamp close enough to function is one's own. I am left with a feeling of sadness, but I am also comforted by the beauty created. Good to see you writing again, Steve.