| rdfs:comment | - Schizophrenic Christmas I Feeling the axe in the hand. God might be a good idea. So maybe you already know what I’m thinking. When I love, I attempt, insanely, To find a way to give Only from what is mine. At some point, The voices condemned me yet again And I arrived at a birth. I throw away trying to be reasonable In exchange for a new spirit And something else I never understood. II Chopping down the tree. I have been trapped as if in the fine grain Of a tree that knew its secret. It could be that we love But choose to remain silent. Each step opens onto a little more of the path we follow Because we are joined to the world, umbilically. This is a prayer, Leaving those we love behind, Fumbling with sacred things, Earning the chance to love As humans love. III The tree falls. H
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| abstract | - Schizophrenic Christmas I Feeling the axe in the hand. God might be a good idea. So maybe you already know what I’m thinking. When I love, I attempt, insanely, To find a way to give Only from what is mine. At some point, The voices condemned me yet again And I arrived at a birth. I throw away trying to be reasonable In exchange for a new spirit And something else I never understood. II Chopping down the tree. I have been trapped as if in the fine grain Of a tree that knew its secret. It could be that we love But choose to remain silent. Each step opens onto a little more of the path we follow Because we are joined to the world, umbilically. This is a prayer, Leaving those we love behind, Fumbling with sacred things, Earning the chance to love As humans love. III The tree falls. He is without confusion. He speaks in the third person, correctly. Let him be the One inside What is not the One – This is a hard thing to understand – How words make what is, holy. He lives well and dies well, Proud as any human, Longing for his mother, for a wife, For the mercy that comes From accepting suffering freely. He was human, except for When he was being perfect, An idea that can almost be grasped. So I follow as best I can, Savoring the mystery, In schizophrenic revelry, This gift I can only try to give away. Perhaps, I shall never learn to love so well.
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