The Constant (parts 1-4)
This series of poems was written to accompany a visual work of the same name, pictured here.
Part 1 - The Constant
Left. Right.
The pendulum pulls my gaze.
It drags my head across the dark backdrop.
Pulling, pulling. Twisting my spine.
The pendulum is constant.
Moment to moment, hour to hour, day to day, century to century.
Every fragment of time noted by its methodical movements.
If this is a dance, the dead are the ones who sway.
If I am their partner am I dead too?
The pendulum pulls us into one another
The dead and I
Forward to life
Back into death
We are the same
And the future, too
The souls of the unborn join us in the upward swing
And follow us as we retreat into the past
Cyclical? No.
We are a constant
We are one collective mass of the breath of Adam and Eve
If the pendulum is a dance, I am the one who sways
If the dead are my partners, are they alive too?
The dead and I
Back into death
Forward to life
We are the same.
Part 2 - The Ephemeral
I am ephemeral
A vapor
A leaf caught fire
Burning quickly, gone in a moment
I am fleeting
A drop of rain
A grain of sand
Washed out by the tide
I am transient
Temporary
Fleeting
Momentary
Ephemeral
And yet
A vapor was once part
Of a roaring fire
A leaf once helped to clothe an oak
A single drop of rain
Assists in watering a field
Or filling the streams
That lead to the oceans
That pull the single grain of sand away
From the golden beach that it helped create
I am temporal
But it is only because I am part
Of something eternal
Part 3 - The Momentum
The pendulum will swing.
Yet what instinct is it that causes me
To welcome the crushing responsibility
(And the searing pain it brings)
Of trying to control a perpetual force
That requires no push to start
And allows no force to halt its momentum
With my limited life?
The pendulum will swing.
But what foolish part of human nature
Which strand of my DNA
Refuses to relinquish control
Refuses to let it move me
Knowing that I find no satisfaction
In the never-ending process of attempting to silence
The ticking that signals every wasted second
The pendulum will swing.
And what if I did, too?
What if I were to let this motion move me
Drive me
Fuel me
What if I were to let go, or grab on
Perhaps those seconds would not be wasted
But would be filled with that same unstoppable energy
Part 4 - The Finality
Finality.
The condition of having concluded
The closest thing to surety that our swaying minds can grasp
The halt to the swing
The silencing of the clock
The end of the perpetual.
This is the lie we repeat in the abyss.
But there is no halt
There is no silence
There is no conclusion
No surety
No finality.
We are a constant.
The pendulum will continue to swing
And we, slaves to it
Will be drawn ever forward, ever back.
The only certainty is this
About the Creator
Alexandra Authement
Welcome! I've been writing as a hobby all my life and am interested in sharing my work with a wider audience. Here you'll find poetry, fiction, and short memoirs about my experience growing up in fundamentalist Christianity.
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