I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

16 February 2016

Fairy-tale Abyss

“At every moment of our lives, we all have one foot in a fairy tale and the other in the abyss.”
He was a tall, skinny lad, long-limbed. His mouth was long too: long and mobile with quirky corners, giving a naturally humorous cast to his face. Big, generous ears. Clear eyes. Long, slim, square-knuckled fingers.

He posed with his Japanese sword, one hand clasping the black handle, long hair swept back behind his shoulder, mouth held straight and serious, eyes fixed. The ideal of the mystic warrior. (He was Aikido-trained.)

'I know you now,' I said. 'You are my animus.' 

'The age difference doesn't matter,' he told me. 'Our minds have no age. We just are.'

We existed for each other in a space of pure being, a vacuum, a sanctuary, a circle outside of time. But we cannot live only as minds. The fairy-tale was the abyss. It was a black hole – gradually, inevitably pulling the outside world in. Bit by bit it became filled with details of our lives, until the pure space was no more. Under the clutter of fact and time, our fine connecting thread grew imperceptible even to ourselves. 

We were left with a question: What is real?

lolling on bright grass
he beams at the camera –
unknown to me then

Written for dVerse Haibun Monday #7


  1. It's a nice dream or fantasy but there is line to draw as we live in our own reality ~ I specially like this line: Under the clutter of fact and time, our fine connecting thread grew imperceptible even to ourselves.

    The haiku makes me think of ghostly stuff ~ Thanks for joining us at Haibun Monday Rosemary and wishing you a happy week ~

  2. This gave a deep sense of mystery to me... almost ghostly... I wonder about the sword and the young warrior(?) and the connection. Maybe we all have a twin soul somewhere inside that we can talk too... but maybe we are just to close to the abyss to dare.

  3. Pure space vs. detail. I get a sense that in certain meditative states we could revisit the animus if we wish. In another spiral of time and wisdom.

  4. Sometimes after a while what once seemed a good thing shows its other side and when that fine connecting thread grows imperceptible it becomes obvious that the fairy tale has come to an end. I find myself thinking that there must be truth in this!

  5. This feels like a fine and shimmering remembering. Some connections are that pure, and outside of time. But as your poem notes, real life imperceptibly begins to intrude. Sigh. Beautifully vivid descriptions in this one, my friend. Our lives lack no shortage of material, LOL.

  6. I love the blurring of lines between dimensions in this, Rosemary, for, surely, that is just how life is.

  7. Intriguing development of the experience of Lorenzo through differing literary interpretations. Suited to this haibun I feel. Moving from previous detailed factual narrative to tightened prose to the essence.

  8. There is mystery here and a hint of 'becoming'

  9. I can feel the longing for what was, and the loss

  10. I like the image of the details of our lives cluttering the pure space... Sadly yearning...

  11. This is so good, Rosemary. I adore the description in the first paragraph.

  12. We were left with a
    question: What is real?

    One is often misled to think if it is good it will remain so. The opposite can shock many to be more wary!


  13. i find.. with zero
    worries and
    iS real
    no iFs ands
    or buts wrOng...

    creating.. practice..:)

  14. Many things to think of--the stereotypical farm-boy physical characteristics of the young man posturing as "the ideal of a mystic warrior"; the merging of the Aikido philosophy of defending the attacker with his comment, "You are my animus"; the perceived idealistic, intellectual relationship and its deterioration(further complicated by the added element of the age difference). A thought-provoking piece, would like to read more.