Brightly Colored Lights In The Night


In spite of my recent posts, I am a hopeful person. In my last post regarding death I deliberately exposed the raw anger and anguish that I feel when I allow myself to really feel death. It may have been taken as an expression of my beliefs, but it wasn’t really. I wasn’t trying to incite an argument, or to insult or offend. It should be read as a poem, and probably should have been written in a kind of meter, so that the reader would better understand it’s purpose. My beliefs, when I am not caught up in a furious emotion, are positive and hopeful. Although I am religious in many ways, I prefer to keep my religion private. I believe that things do actually turn out all right in the end, although when I am afraid, running out of money, can’t pay my rent, I lose track of what I believe. I believe nothing, I just feel lonely, sad, and very angry. I am so glad that it doesn’t last.

If I were to describe poetically, which I am finding is perhaps my best voice, how I feel about God, Love, and the Truth, I would describe those feelings as brightly colored lights in the night. Even in the darkest despair something still shines, it beckons in the distance. I think that may account for the lonely, slightly sad, poignant, but beautiful feeling I get when I see Christmas lights, carnival lights, or the lights at Burning Man, at night. Something about that cheerfulness surrounded by darkness touches me. It serves as a metaphor for my feelings about life. I prefer to think those lights are real, but really I don’t even get caught up in questions of real, right, correct, etc. What I am talking about transcends all that. It is beyond language, philosophy, science, or religion, and no, beyond this signpost I cannot venture. I can only point to the twinkling colored lights in the night, in wonder. It is like a city, a wonderful city so far away, in which I will live one day. I don’t particularly want to know what this represents, to receive explanations of it’s religious or psychological significance. I only ask that you take a moment to contemplate what I am pointing to, and see if it resonates for you as well.

For me, I sometimes seek explanations, and want to delve into every nook and cranny of existence. But other times, like now, I don’t want anything explained to me. This is a time when life is a mystery, and to write about it almost seems an irreverence. Because it spoils the feeling. It fractures the moment, and you can’t gather it together again. This isn’t theology, philosophy, psychology, or biology, It is perhaps a poem of a moment.

Brightly Colored Lights in The Night

Brightly Burning

Brightly Yearning

Why does it seem so far?

I wrap myself in the arms of night

For the day has left me scarred

I wonder why such a sight should shine

While I feel broken and alone

Brightly Colored Lights in The Night

Could this be my home?

Brightly Burning

Brightly Yearning

Please let this be my home.

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