Intuitions

ONCE YOU MISS IT, IT IS GONE

~ Che ~ 3 Comments

A wishing star slid across the nightsky yesterday while we all slept, it went and we missed it. A strange and beautiful, gentle, sea-creature, never before seen, surfaced briefly out of the Pacific two fullmoons ago. It stayed upon the waters for a few weeks and then disappeared again into the mysterious depths from which it came, and nobody but nobody saw it.

A new bird appeared briefly in the noonsky and vanished in the blink of an eye, and nobody saw what happened. You did not understand the tongue he spoke, and by the time you did he was already speaking another tongue, you missed it and it was gone, whatever it was he first said in that first tongue.

The moment always holds the greatest treasures, spark-lightning, flashes of pure intuition, a brief something between the eyes, and if you did not see it while it lived, you never know it ever did.

How many times? How many times, my dear? How many more times?

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

OVER THE MOUNTAINS

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Deep music is sailing over the mountains and into the hearts of lonely people far away. Over the mountains – over the mountains – the sight is glorious and gone. Much is gone that was here yesterday. I feel like an old man, waiting to die. But, rather than wait, why don’t I just spread my wings and fly again, like I did when I was young.

The earth is not my home. The earth is not my home, but my way home. Over the mountains, over the mountains, all is happy. It came and went so quickly. But I do not mind. Because what joy did not finish, pain shall. And vice versa.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

ALL THE THINGS THAT THE WORDS DO NOT SAY

~ Che ~ 18 Comments

I wish I were a painter, to draw the pictures and paint the concepts that words cannot hold – my words. I believe there are greater poets now and ever, better writers, greater wordists, because I’ve tried and tried but still I’ve not succeeded in telling you what I know. I cannot form it in words, I cannot form it in thoughts, I just know it and understand that it is the world of things which the words have never said.

You cannot tell a woman that you love her. The moment you say it, it is gone. You can tell a man the truth, but you cannot tell him what the truth is – only he must find it out for himself one day. You cannot describe beauty in words. Even the beauty of a beautiful poem cannot be put into poetry again. You did it without thinking – and the moment you started thinking, you did not see it again.

Think a little – little thoughts…

A picture is still worth a thousand and one words. A woman wounded me mortally, yet try as I did, I could not explain in words what she did, and yet I know it Clearly.

You can never change anybody but yourself, because you are the one person to whom you can speak without words, always. And once there is truth, then there is nothing more to say. You can only say the truth, my brother, but you cannot make anybody understand. But, take heart… silence teaches the last lesson finally finally finally finally.

All the things that the words do not say, silence says always.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

PARADISE IS HIDDEN BETWEEN YESTERDAY AND TOMORROW

~ Che ~ 12 Comments

Do not go too fast, do not go too slow, nor stop, nor stop to look back, nor look back, nor go back – walk on at a steady pace. Paradise is hidden between yesterday and tomorrow.

Do not love too far, do not love too near, love as you walk, walk as you love, forward calmly, forward calmly, nor be afraid of heartbreak. Paradise is hidden between yesterday and tomorrow.

Do not dream too much, do not dream too little, do not trust too quickly, do not trust too late, do not work too hard, do not work too soft, do not cry during the day, do not laugh in anybody’s face, do not expect that those whom you love also love you, do not expect that those whom you understand also understand you, do not assume that those whom you see not also do not see you, do not assume that those whom you love not also do not love you.

It is in your heart today, it is in your hands today. Forget the past, son, forgive everyone who ever hurt you, nor dream alone of goodness only in the future – Paradise is hidden between yesterday and tomorrow.

The person who loves you the most is the last person you would think of. Love me, dear, please love me dear. Paradise is hidden between yesterday and tomorrow. And if we let it slip away today, we will not and never find it again tomorrow, but will walk on lonely again, like yesterday.

If you love me like I know you do, please hold my hand forever.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

HEARTBREAK AND PROMISES, TOGETHERNESS, FAREWELLS AND SILENCE

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To make a promise to love another person, forever, and then to break this promise and say, Goodbye baby… awakens within the hearts of everybody who hears of it a memory of their own broken and unspoken promises.

Noise everywhere. Noise in my head. Noise even in the centre of silence. Lovers are what sages once were, and vice versa. Heartbreak and promises, togetherness, farewells and silence are all trying to resolve themselves within our hearts.

I should never have told you that I loved you, but how could I but not tell the truth? Evermore I understand the importance of silence. Our hearts are broken in silence: a small token to pay for the new powers which soon and steadily awaken in silence within us.

One who can bear the pain of heartbreak; one who can say goodbye and yet always be there; one who can preserve promises in silence unbroken; will read these lines with a knowing smile.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

CHOICES AND LANES, CHANGES, DESTINIES AND LIFE

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You make the principal choice only once, and then it drives you along its lanes. When you change, you change solely within these lanes, upwards or downwards, or round and round. You fix the terminal points of your destiny, and that is your life.

But fear not. The principal choice is the answer to who you are, always, and always is forever, and forever holds light for every spirit.

Poets remain poets,
comedians remain comedians,
lovers remain lovers,
leaders remain leaders.

Healers will be healers,
teachers teachers,
builders remain builders,
dancers remain dancers,
and weavers will always weave something.

Mountains remain mountains, be they on land or under the sea.

Women remain women, and children stay children, earthlife after earthlife.

Thoughts ever will strike me, once, and before they strike again, I would have written a poem for them, as a surprise, because I am just like that.

Friends remain friends, men remain men, and what we seek remains all we have.

Choices and lanes, changes, destinies and life.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

GOLD AND DAWN, SONGS, LONELINESS AND STRENGTHS

~ Che ~ 6 Comments

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Gold glitters, but if all that glitters were gold, the world would be a place of great glitter and much emptiness.

Dawn ever arrives. No matter how dark the night, it will melt away when dawn awakens the travelling sun, and there will be laughter when you hear the voices of children playing in the morning…

Songs are a thing that are born mysteriously, and every moment everywhere hath its own songs too and there is no end to songs and games – and this has often mystified me.

And loneliness is a guest that comes and goes as he pleases, and once you get used to him, he becomes easy to live with and, together, both of you achieve many things which on your own you could not achieve, even if the whole world were to aid you.

There are some masterpieces which only lonely artists can create. There are some wars which only an army of lonely soldiers can win. There is a certain love which only two lonely hearts can share with one another. And loneliness seeks itself in you – but when loneliness goes away from you again, do not follow.

I am not strong. But when I unite with golden dawn and lonely songs, they make me the canvas on which they paint their dreams, and I am strong again. And free.

Gold and dawn, songs, loneliness and strengths.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

LOVE AND POETS, FOOLS, DREAMS AND SEEKERS

~ Che ~ 5 Comments

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Our dreams do not die, but when we misinterpret them, we make fools of ourselves. Big fools. But it is love again that maketh the biggest fools of us all, especially of poets and dreamers.

I dream my dreams, I write my poems, but still the nearest I come to the love in my heart are these words on paper that I write. And it is not me that you love, but my poetry. And fools continue to dream and poets continue to write love-poems and I continue to change.

But I do not believe the myth, oh no. The younger you are, I know, the deeper you love. Love does not make fools of youths, only of adults.

My chest hurts. It is cold somewhere strange and far…

How really good are the things I write? If you knew the amount of pain and loneliness, the pressure of gleaned recognition, the deep sorrow under which I write them down, my friend, you would read them gently and tenderly and with a thought for all those who labour away but are called fools and dreamers by those for whom they also write. Aye, if you knew the pain mingled with the ink which write these lines, you would weep for everybody on earth and beyond.

But do not cry for me… when I write, I shed my pain.

But she never goes away, my love, like a deer. She is only shy and a little wary of strange men, and all men are strange. I’ve been to many places, but no place ever confounded me quite like the heart of the woman I love. It was a room of mirrors and all I see was myself everywhere. But so would everybody else too who found their way into her – and yet her heart does not lie. It only reflects the truth. So I got mad and smashed her heart… and – what do you know? – instead of hating me for causing her pain, she loved me fiercely for freeing her from her loneliness and fear.

Poets seek love – and find poems…

Fools seek love – and find dreams…

Seekers seek truth – and find love…

Love and poets, fools, dreams and seekers.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

FRIENDS AND CASTLES, LAKES, MOUNTAINS AND MYSTERIES

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Friends are true friends when they will not go away from you in search of something which they merely sense that you can give them; and they can wait a thousand years for you, because they simply love you.

Castles are places where those who have love can live without guilt, and those who have no love cannot live without guilt, because every castle is an amalgamation of the qualities of the souls that inhabit it. Castles breathe.

Lakes, although they treasure a mystery, will only show you your own face, and if you must know what lies inside the heart, then you must break through the face on the surface of the lake. Lakes speak never.

Mountains are mighty until you have conquered them… and then they become mightier than ever, each mount, but now you know why it stands there, because you have crowned it. Even after you die, the mountain will remember those who crowned him once, and forever; and when you return again, he will whisper your name not once, but thrice… mountains live forever in my heart. You are my heart, sweet woman.

Friends and castles, lakes, mountains and mysteries.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

FAÇADES

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When your friends frown at you, as you wonder what you have done wrong, remember that frowning can be a façade with which the supreme virtue in you masks its beauty, because of your envy or its love.

And when your friends smile, as you endeavour to smile along, remember too that smiling is the most convenient façade behind which the supreme vice in you can hide itself and remain undetected, unchecked.

And tears, even tears – our most sacred tears – cannot be trusted. For save when you cry to yourself alone, you betray. Friend, when you cry to me, you betray me, so long as you know why you are crying. And if you do not possess this knowledge, then it is your soul that betrays you. And you still betray me.

And, finally, there is Seeming, ah, Seeming… the supreme garment of all, which I weaved my very own self. Nothing is as dear to me as my Seeming, for it ensures that when I am with you I can feel at home without, at the same time, ceasing to feel completely at home with myself. Yes, Seeming is indeed the supreme garment, almost tending towards nature. Almost. If only it did not leave me divided amongst myselves – I cannot stand!

Façades. People hide behind façades, of ignorance or wisdom, of inarticulateness or eloquence, of bravery or cowardice. Human hides innocence and nakedness behind façades, for fear of being shunned by fellow human for being mad or simply different. We hide behind façades of which lying is barely even one. And the worst part of it all is that we have forgotten, forgotten going into hiding, forgotten who, forgotten what, we really are – and, in our gruesome attempt to belong, have finally become the façades behind which we die.

Think of a worse hell, and I’ll give you a clap.

 – Che Chidi Chukwumerije.