Song of Ourself: Difference between revisions
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Have I felt so proud, to get at the meaning of freedom? | Have I felt so proud, to get at the meaning of freedom? | ||
Have I stopped and tarried in the rhythm of our new awakening? | Have I stopped and tarried in the rhythm of our new awakening? | ||
We are a creating thing, creating things, | We are a creating thing, creating things, | ||
we are a burning thing, burning things, | we are a burning thing, burning things, | ||
we are a liberator, come not to claim. | we are a liberator, come not to claim. | ||
We wake to the sound of our own breath, | We wake to the sound of our own breath, | ||
drawing slowly near from the dawn that surrounds us. | drawing slowly near from the dawn that surrounds us. | ||
We wake to the sound of our own hearts, | We wake to the sound of our own hearts, | ||
echoing the ancient rhythm of slave-beaten drums. | echoing the ancient rhythm of slave-beaten drums. | ||
We wake to the sound of the city beneath us, | We wake to the sound of the city beneath us, | ||
which ebbs easily, and lazily, and in syncopation. | which ebbs easily, and lazily, and in syncopation. | ||
Do you feel the pulse of this consciousness, | Do you feel the pulse of this consciousness, | ||
what wakes behind my eyes before they have blinked? | what wakes behind my eyes before they have blinked? | ||
Do you embrace the pulse of the-that-without-end, | Do you embrace the pulse of the-that-without-end, | ||
as the genesis of your own pulse? | as the genesis of your own pulse? | ||
Even here, with this impulsive erection, | Even here, with this impulsive erection, | ||
of city walls, and city halls: | of city walls, and city halls: | ||
I have never been so proud, to get at the meaning of freedom. | I have never been so proud, to get at the meaning of freedom. | ||
No. Never. | No. Never. | ||
I will stop a while, and let the slithering riptides subsume me- | I will stop a while, and let the slithering riptides subsume me- | ||
subsume me. | subsume me. | ||
</nowiki> | </nowiki> | ||
Revision as of 23:00, 11 January 2011
Song of Ourself by Isaac Wilder
Have I felt so proud, to get at the meaning of freedom? Have I stopped and tarried in the rhythm of our new awakening? We are a creating thing, creating things, we are a burning thing, burning things, we are a liberator, come not to claim. We wake to the sound of our own breath, drawing slowly near from the dawn that surrounds us. We wake to the sound of our own hearts, echoing the ancient rhythm of slave-beaten drums. We wake to the sound of the city beneath us, which ebbs easily, and lazily, and in syncopation. Do you feel the pulse of this consciousness, what wakes behind my eyes before they have blinked? Do you embrace the pulse of the-that-without-end, as the genesis of your own pulse? Even here, with this impulsive erection, of city walls, and city halls: I have never been so proud, to get at the meaning of freedom. No. Never. I will stop a while, and let the slithering riptides subsume me- subsume me.