Philosophy Now Forum

How does one say goodbye…

When sun settles in the distance
Mind stirring the past
Caressing senses with memories that were
And are no more

Reluctant partings can take their toll
Bodies longing for slumber
Straining, again, to preserve the moment
And make it last, forever more

…how does one say goodbye…

When words flutter, in the emptiness
Spirits failing to take flight
Between chasms of comforting time
And pestiferous perceptions

When they are, but are no more
Presence lingers, still
Turning thoughts, back, to regret
When tongues were stayed, silent

…how does one say goodbye…

Gestures remain, like hope, in the heart
With every searching touch
Conjured tears washing away absence
Abating sorrow
When faith finds an ending
And all that is left,
Is the sound of final partings
Asking forever more

…How does one say goodbye?

Have I not listened carefully to your mindless humming, passionately consuming the tones and rhythms you aimlessly cast about?
I wrote lyrics to accompany your thoughtless tunes and repeated them back hoping to stir, in you, a longing lost in time.
I thought I had recalled your memories, giving them shape and form when it was you who reverberated in me what I had forgotten but not yet denied.

Let me die in your place, if it frees you to live unburdened by the thought.
I promise to keep it from creeping into my mind, ruining those almost perfect moments when you laugh, as if you'll live forever, and I, in you, find the courage to endure twice dying: once, to myself, and the second, more painful than the first, to you.

I failed, as a son.
When I heard my father weep, I did not rush to embrace him, comforting myself through his lament.
Instead, I stood back, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, wondering what I should do; what could I possibly do.
The moment passed, in uncertainty; silence followed, more heart-wrenching than the sounds of his tears.

The greatest of all struggles.
To make yourself the kind of parent you wished you had.

Mother, oh sweet mother of mine, I fall before your feet, finding comfort in your songs and in your caressing touches, resting upon the places where Hyperborean giants once kneeled before you like children, as I now do, longing to receive your delicate grace. I strain to hear your feeble whispers, now that you have grown old and distant. Do not leave me, do not abandon me to this current, mother, o sweet mother of mine, because lost I would be in its abysmal void, in the darkness I hear Cronos swallowing.
Let me hold onto your memory, at least, and how beautiful you once were, mother, oh sweet mother, of mine; warriors laying down their swords, surrendering empires to your beauty.
Do they not speak of you, still, when monsters have come and gone and all is laid to waste beneath that eastern scourge that has now enveloped us? No blade or muscle could withstand your form, or the wisdom of your word when in its prime, mother, oh sweet mother, of mine; castles burned and minds surrendered to your melodies. And how proud I now am to call myself your son, mother, oh sweet mother, of mine.

I dreamed of order and found myself drowning in a sea of chaos, until I abandoned myself to its abysmal turmoil and in the darkness I saw a spark of order waiting for me in silence, and I "knew it for the first time".

Future historians may reconsider and dare to revise their historical assessments, from the perspective of immunizing distances. And those that presented themselves as mankind’s greatest benefactors may be posthumously unmasked as being concealed fiends, whilst those considered brutish monsters may be exposed to be hysterical reactions to an antemortem unmasking.

A wise women will choose a worthy man and make herself his means, and if he is truly worthy he will make of her the center of his world.

And what if I repeat myself, now that I’ve stepped into the middle of it all, when the beginning is at an end and the end is just beginning? Every repetition is my recollection of what is being lost in time, like a whisper in a windstorm.

To understand the political animal, citizen, you must first come to know the manimal being caged within.

Pistolero wrote: ↑Fri Apr 11, 2025 5:31 pm A wise women will choose a worthy man and make herself his means, and if he is truly worthy he will make of her the center of his world.

epic

Midlife crisis hits hardest those who realize that everything they believed was an indisputable truth was really a comforting lie.
They become cynical, they begin to doubt everything, including their own judgements, seeking certainty in pleasure.

Despair has been a trustworthy counselor.

Storm the bastions with steel and fire
Let blood flow to quench desire
Turn green fields into red
That you were weak,
Let it never be said.

Stand up straight upon your feet
Dispel the chill with inner heat
Raise your voice against the night
Shatter the silence
Scream and fight.

Ascend the steeple upon the spire
Cast your gaze to what is higher
Hate the lies you’ve been fed
Awaken your soul,
From its restful bed.

Breech the walls and silence the choir
Cast all idols into the fire
Take the world into your head
Learn to live
Before you’re dead.
CA