zk/writing/poetry/numeno.md

%title Numeno
:writing:poetry:spirituality:

## Numeno
!{In *Eigengrau*}

'''
Inter ĝuo kaj timo
Estas loko de tro da signifo.
Apud kompreno, ekster saĝo,
Tamen ĝi tutampleksas.
Mi kompareble malgrandas
Kaj ĝi tro granda estas.
Nekomprenebla
Nekontestebla,
Senmova kaj ĉiam ŝanĝiĝema.

-----

Between joy and fear
Is a place of too much meaning.
Next to understanding, outside wisdom,
It nonetheless expands.
I’m so small beside it
and it is too big.
Incomprehensible,
Incontestible,
Unmoving and always changing.
'''

-----

## Overflowing with words
!{In *ally*}

<style>
.speak {
    line-height: 0.3;
}
</style>

<div class="verse speak">
speak to me  
speak to me  
speak to me  
speak to me  
speak to me  
speak to me  
speak to me

that i may see  
that i may see  
that i may see  
that i may see  
that i may see

the face of god  
the face of god  
the face of god



</div>

'''
I was born at the edge of the numinous.

That is why I can tread along the border.
That is why I'm able to whisper the name of God.
That is why I'm allowed to know the number and how to factor it.
That is why I have seven fingers spread wide and three curled toward my heart.
That is why my limbs trace the curves and lines of power when I dance.
That is why I sit with my back to the sun in summer.
That is why my body is a canvas.

You were born in sunlight.

Speak secrets into my hair.
Take my words from me.
Spend the intercalary days telling me lies.
Break my dystonia with a breath.
Wash my face with salt water.
Tell me the name you call yourself.
Close my eyes.

We will sleep in the shade.

Let me bless you with smoke.
Let me bathe your feet.
Let me light the candles.
Let me place a stone beneath my tongue.
Let me taste copper.
Let me draw in ash.
Let me rise up until my head is in the branches and my hair becomes the leaves.

-----

At the beginning of time,
    when chaos birthed to order and disorder,
we were blessed with two souls.

One has seven eyes and can see all of the monsters in the dark,
    but is blinded by the sun.

The other has no eyes,
    but can feel no pain.

When order and disorder were close as children,
  our souls experienced the world hand in hand,
    but as they drifted apart and began to fight,
      some of us left one of our souls behind,
        and that is why we search.
        
-----

Babel was a collaborative effort.

Once,
we all spoke the same language,
  but on seeing god grow increasingly anxious with the rate of our progress,
    we agreed to let our tongues be confused,
      so that he could take things at a more comfortable pace,
        and we could be assured he would not understand us unless we prayed in silence,

for only then do we speak the language of angels.

-----

I went for a walk and was driven by impulse to collect five sticks.
They had to be as straight as possible.
They had to be balanced as close to the middle as possible.
They had to be the same length without me breaking them.
They had to have been from different trees.
They had to have fallen more than a year prior.

When I got home, I lay them in a row, asked my question, and, one by one, broke them in half.

-----

When I speak, the words drip from my tongue as ink,
and form writing on the ground,
and I leave a trail behind me,
and the ink stains your feet,
and when you walk, words and phrases and sentences are pressed into the soil,
and the ink breathes life into the plants,
and even the grass will flower,
and the bees will flourish,
and they will both sting you and provide you with sweet honey.

The ink stains my chin and my clothes.
  Sometimes, I speak into my hands and stain my cheeks as well.
    I speak against my fingers and press them into my flesh until I am covered in rosettes.
      I stretch my hands to the sky and marvel at how black they are.
        And as with the grass, where the ink stains, growth quickens, and I am covered in soft fur.
          I fall to all fours and hunt amid the rocks and the buildings, between cars and along trails.
            And when I am full, I curl up to sleep, and awake human once again.
              My skin is clean and my mind is clear,

and I cannot speak.

-----

The only time I know my true name is when I pray.

The only time I pray is at the utmost need.

To pray is to ask yourself what you dare not ask god.

To answer your own question, you must step outside yourself.

To step outside yourself, you must forget your true name.

The only time I know my true name is when I pray.
'''

-----

'''
Seven slow hours pass.
Five doors open in my heart.
Three versions of me step forth.
Two quick breaths.
One unending death.
'''

-----

'''
Anchor me now to reality.
Pin me to perception
    or perception to me.
Loose me amid fractal walls.
Let successive numbers claim me
    or me claim them.
'''

-----