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Because I'm trying to find a poem I wrote over a decade ago, maybe a decade and a half, even?--god, has it been that long?--I think it has...
The last lines are "too soon releasing / the winged eternal there inside."
........
I would say more, carefully, but it has a lot to do with immersion, and darkness and descending into places that not everyone sees nor understands, much less dares to live through even in facsimile. To be conscious to the utmost is a harrowing task sometimes, and working with the materials of selfhood is a deeper thing than people tend to understand, when they're not somehow in their own natures on the other side of sight -- and in the deeper end of the pool at that. Immersive natures are not like others, and that's all I can say right now without getting very...complex.
_
The last lines are "too soon releasing / the winged eternal there inside."
........
I would say more, carefully, but it has a lot to do with immersion, and darkness and descending into places that not everyone sees nor understands, much less dares to live through even in facsimile. To be conscious to the utmost is a harrowing task sometimes, and working with the materials of selfhood is a deeper thing than people tend to understand, when they're not somehow in their own natures on the other side of sight -- and in the deeper end of the pool at that. Immersive natures are not like others, and that's all I can say right now without getting very...complex.
_
