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The Atheist

Posted by Doeslittle on February 25, 2008 - 20:02

When you have floundered like an offering
Before your own pillared beliefs,
When you have assembled the unthinkable
Before your own greysteel, unsinkable ship,
When you have knelt upon this stone floor
Before your own laboured displacement,
When you have fought the inescapable thought
Before all thoughts of your own support and meaning,
When you have funnelled; open then narrowed
Before your own opinions become thin and shrill,
When you have directed all such traffic as this
Before your own ruby, soporific intention,
You can see that here you are still,
And that you remain real, nonetheless,
Heavy and breathing.

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Comments

littleditty | February 25, 2008 - 23:24

Excellent - really liked - 'greysteel, unsinkable ship" but each line is well made - great content -really enjoyed reading this - thanks for the read

tcook | February 26, 2008 - 15:22

Nitpicking first - do you mean 'pilloried' or 'pillared'?

How is an intention soporific or ruby?

I'm sorry to be a pain but so much of this is good - I want it to be incredible!

Doeslittle | February 26, 2008 - 18:31

No, it's great to have comments especially since the two you've commented on so far are both first drafts so am more than happy to get criticism...you're quite right - I mean pillared...faulty spelling. And the ruby I was going to remove as I didn't like it - I was trying to maintain a feeling of religious metaphor to a poem about atheism. I think intentions can be soporific though - loosely!As in idle or barely conscious intentions...

blackjack-davey | February 27, 2008 - 00:37

I love the idea of building non-belief out of the old architecture of belief: the metaphors of temple-building and ships embarking on voyages when there is no one to direct or welcome the outcome... Only our own desire to manufacture meaning. The building of the temple is a daily ritual, morality without religion, a big nineteenth century preoccupation.

I think 'ruby, soporific intention' could be more precise but I admit how does one convey the mystical with precision? The poem opens up interesting vistas: the life of the spirit without God. Ruby suggests a big fat gem on the top of a turban!