Poem about Love and Ontology |
When I am with You In silence next to you I find there is more profundity effortlessly understood with such transparent clarity, far beyond the episteme of ancient wisdoms reverently enshrined in flowery language games of formalistic prosody, Socratic wit and sophistry, or allegoric analogy: Idealist elicitations, didactic dialogues invoking logos dialectically, that through pragmatic praxis use applied abstract syntactics with strict analytic practice; That is to say, methodically, they asymptotically approximate the axis of syllogistic certainty. This Hellenistic rhetoric, stylistic of heredity from Euripidean Bacchic rites, dramatic choral tragedies, Sophoclean irony, and grand Homeric odyssey; epic mythos stolen from Olympus, Platonistically, protrudes its wordy scholarship into the void of empty things, occluding ontic consequence in lieu of virtues, truths, and schemes which steers shared normativity into obscure philosophy based on misplaced faith in the strength of grandiosity to shape all of existence within the space of our reality in such a way that we can say “This is how the world must be!” The entirety of the structure then of supposed rationality is built atop this line of thought architectonically, never self-reflecting on its very own validity, despite foundational axiomatic tenability. However, Whenever I sit with you, so few words will do. Yet meaning becomes as natural as the rain as present as the sky and the wind on my face. When I sit next to you the world is given. It reveals itself to intuition and apprehension. We share things that cannot be oppressed by the capture of words. We know things together that are simply known. This is the truth of the universe, and it will forever refuse to be complicated by conceptual thought. When I am alone, I remember it in reflection, though I do not know it in the same way anymore. Only when I am with you does the truth become manifest and knowable. I am overcome. . . We are overcome by the force and passion it obtrudes. Only without words can it be communicated. We are but vessels of its immaterial secrets. Enriched forever by the experience, we go our separate ways, just for a while, feeling a sense of incompleteness, but going on knowing that it's only temporary, because now we know. . . I know that when I am with you again, it will all return. |