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Poetry: futility: redundancy, superfluity, absurdity: futile efforts: poem
A book excerpt from the spiritandflesh.com religion and spirituality online library.
Like how a tropical tree planted in a temperate garden will still grow and live, and take in the sun and soil, and yet will never attain to its true height, and will die without knowing what it is to be pollinated, to blossom, and then to bear fruit. Like that tree that is no tree there is a proximity to unattainableness, a closeness which is the greatest distance apart we can endure. Just as with all the spermatozoa who arrive at an egg too late- for, after all, only one crazed, writhing life gets in, and the membrane impenetrably hardens- these are the superfluously competent, who nudge against impossibility, as if to beat themselves on their losses.
We are the dogs Pavlov starved, intentionally, before he rang his bell; we drool for salvation, having been denied the mundane; we dream of a banquet that may never be eaten, but that we might fill our beings with hunger.
A person once placed a stuffed hawk in the middle of their lawn to scare away the frenzied jays. It was successful, though the possibility of scavenging from the predator then attracted twice as many crows.
(excerpted from THE DREAM OF BEING: aphorisms, ideograms, and aislings, by Jack Haas)
Autobiography, Memoir, Spirituality, Mysticism, Comparative Religion, Poetry, Art, Photography.