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Love Verse 96, (C)1996, (C)2005 A. Alexander Volenski

Love Verse 96, is a book of analogy's and essays on various subjects:
love, nature, music, famous authors/authoress's, etc.;
an interesting piece of information and thought.

The following an unedited excerpt from Love Verse 96.

Wafting

"...have you ever wafted,
you know,
did a glide soar connect?"

Something like riding the e-stream,
that high-speed tract...
...email cruise.

...ya,
from the US to EUROPE,
3-seconds...
...there are faster beams,
but for the originals you and me,
3-for now is fine.

There are a lot of wafts,
mind wafts, feeling wafts, love wafts,
even small bird wafts.

Every watched a bird waft,
one of those quick-switch-glides,
cutting the air currents
flutter and whissh...
...on the wing maneuvers
can be very intent-minded and body thrilling.

Waft:
to carry smoothly through the air or over water,
to signal with light current, sound, or waftures of incense...

And the Scottish poet Thomas Campbell (1777-1844, Pleasures of Hope),
comes to mind a line of two:

 "O Star-eyed Science! hast thou wandered there,
  To waft us home the message of despair?"

Yes I wonder too...
where is Science taking this world
and those in the know,
and who are the one's wafting on the edge;
you know, that thin-zone,
some place ahead of the cutting-edge,
some place before the leading-edge,
a place which is coming to meet us,
a site that some of us know of---are of.

Wafting definitely is connected to science in this time and place,
that is if one is wafting the e-stream, and e-beaming their email
along a path which Science built.

But where is this all leading...science building what?

What kind of freedom will this science take us too,
and will we still have our originality?

And what is originality to a human?
Being able to cry is very humanly-original.

Somewhere within those lofty realms
and heavenly domains
kingdoms of the blessed,
is a message-moment,
"if it doesn't cry, it isn't original."

Those are tears of sorrow or happiness,
those are tears of love, and the deep feelings,
those are tears of the natural,
tears of the original...
perhaps, even some kinds of physical-pain are of tear.

Tear is an Original-Link.

So now we know a way of identifying an original human,
at least until the duplicators learn to make tears tumble and roll 
and touch the petal soft cheek...

Until the duplicators learn how to send-glide a moments watery,
which the visionaries sight and eye does see,
or learn how the 'tear' is sent from heart within...
until the duplicators learn to mimic real sorrow,
and the enduring pain of heart;
until they find a way of experiencing
love's open truthfulness and expression,
expressions of the deepest kind...
until then, the original human and its tear, 
will be able to identify each other and not be duped or fooled.

And what is this Originalism,
which each and every one of us is born with,
what is it, where does it originate, why do we have it?

Those are hard questions to answer, and I have no-answers for anyone,
for the answers which I find are meant for me only me,
your answers are for you only you.

And though we share the air, the wind, the sun, the moon,
and stars above with Meadows of Miss Love,
along with a multitude of other sharing...
still those important questions must be answered individually,
and by only you alone.
For we are all individually unique,
just like our voice and finger prints are uniquely
and originally our own.

Thus, my answers can only express a Universality;
a waft-like beam of truth,
which is read and understood, shared and known and felt,
a truth which is free to be as it would be...

But what did Campbell mean,
what was that Scott conveying of the future?

And as he stood upon that highland plain
feeling wind and rain,
seeing cloud and fluff,
knowing bird and call,
a symmetry arrived as though upon a waft,
a waft of instant thought and recognition,
a waft as though directly
from his muse within,
a waft of love and heart
sent-gliding moment free,
to share with you and me...

Those highland meadows free
with rock and wind and sea,
those highland grasses green
with birds which soar to be,
those highland rocks and stone
rolling windy hills, valleys creeks within,
reach and touch the inner-heart,
knowledge warm and true,
where tears do ride tumble too
wisdom on the move.

So as that British poet of Scottish linage asked the question 200yrs
ago of Science and its intent, still has anyone looked his way, or
considered the seriousness of science in this day?

And some would ask, "...what's your problem dude?"

Yes, I know everything is cool, many threads and lines, thin-lines,
wired-lines, all kinds of grooves and moves,
grinds and kinds, highs and tricks, smack a fix or two,
but where do they all lead?
Where did they ever lead...'sort of adrift',
adrift in that vast wonderland of the hidden-away zone,
that place which goes round and round,
re-cycling the old-ways into that phrase,
"...do it again."

Yes, even that smooth waft of sensuality, passion at its best,
warm and so fulfilling, tingle through and through,
symmetry in motion, desire touch and soothe,
also has that phrase, "...do it again."

There is a kind of innocence in symmetry,
which is what a small wafting bird would display
as it hovers soars and glides through the airy way.
And that symmetry of 'spirit' is seen by you and me
all and everyday that we see a bird...bird on the wing.

And its waft does reach and speak in that language of the original.
That's right, that special-language, universal and to all;
a special-language, which speaks of self and a free will,
which speaks along its own e-beam stream,
a stream we all came soaring in-within to be born,
that special-language is a language-beam
which speaks from and to our completeness.
Speaks to the composite of our life,
that original intact completeness, 
that uniquely pure spirit-self,
that immortally present-self of which each of us truly is in-link.

Yes you've got it, each and every one of us is unique and original;
each has a free-will, an identity, is in-link with the heavenly...
Each has a purpose, a way of knowing and of doing,
and our heart our inner self,
transmits this all to us every second every moment
of the day or night.

And that starry eyed British poet and Scott named Campbell,
keyed a word spelled 'waft',
a poet there to let us know,
that within the science of our technology modernism and more,
we must place a truth which we know and will not forget!
'We must not forget, our human originality.'

But let's move on to other things which waft,
as though within the stream,
beaming information meant to do its thing!

Circular gyration, fixed and so in place, bouncing beam binary gleam,
green with gold, some yellow black and red, colors of the inter-face,
science at its best...satellites in the sky which e-beam email.

Circular halo, fixed and so aglow, rainbow hover over-me, bouncing
rays and beam, sunlight shining through tear-drop rain so new, purple
blue green and red, spectrum color glow, nature's natural at its best
sending emotions clear and true, rainbow sky for me and you.

And on the street a word or two (overheard) does seem to be in play,
"...I'll take the rainbow any day, in place of science pool..."
"Ya, me too, rainbow is for me, better than that new theology
named Science, which dictates all my moves."

And further along the street, blue jeans tight, blond blue eyes, she
smiles and is sweet, cashmere sweater bouncy firm as she walks along,
warmth within a pulsing heart, sensation natural and so true;
I've been waiting a few minutes...it is afternoon;
and as she walks up to me, I look and smile in return,
meeting place it does seem, long awaited call,
and she looks and wonders too, 
'how long its been since we've been connected?'

Ever hooked an astroid
or a comet's tail,
to get somewhere or follow too,
a place where Miss Love does dwell.

Ever cruised the beam
to find where it does lead,
every soar the stream
and curve the in-between,
ever shoot the sun
messages sublime,
ever follow Miss Love
to places hard to find?

And the blue eyed blond in jeans
sweater warm and free,
reached out and touched my brow
warm fingers just for me...
and then (with a soft whisper) she said,
"be careful of Miss Take..."

And now the muse within me
looks my way and says,
"that's all for now my friend,
we've a waft beam-stream to send."

~

[Here ends Wafting, 'A song...for Science';
page is yet to be proof read].



                                        This page created April 98
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