E12: Home - Dragos Radu

09/11/22 • 2 min

Dragos Radu - Home

Written: 2022

Summary & Story:

Throughout my life, I had many moments where I missed my home. Not home in the sense of a birthplace, people or things that I've been closely acquainted with during my life, but home within, the altar within each of us. The place that always calls us back to ourselves, to inquire, to be curious. The place that is most meaningful to us as only by knowing it and not merely acknowledging it, can we get to know ourselves. This is a poem about that. I hope you enjoy it.

Poem:

There is a sun

I die to see again.

Not the sun that

Sets and rises,

But the one always up

And shining,

Illuminating all beings

From within.

The sun, which makes life move,

And energy flow,

Tirelessly in the soul.

I crave it so much

I crave it as a home.

Now the lights are off

And my soul is blinded

By the never-ending winter

Of the night.

There is calm,

But there’s no peace.

There is hope,

But there’s no light to guide it.

I miss the sun,

I miss its warmth and grace,

I miss my home.

There’s a bell ringing

In the night.

A state of alert

Established in the meadow

Where I sit dreaming

Of light and peace.

The sound breaks

My dreaming.

It awakens me

From a restless sleep,

That seemed endless at first.

As I open my eyes,

Light breaks in

So radiant, so powerful,

And with a rush of adrenaline

It stands me up,

Sun-gazing, filling every cell

Of my body with light,

Peace,

And ultimately freedom.

I now can hear the birds sing,

The caressing wind blowing

Softly through my hair,

The vibrant air of a new spring day.

I feel at home, and I feel safe.

I have always been.

I will always be,

Despite the depths and darkness of my dreams.

Once I open my eyes,

There will always be light,

There will always be sun.

There will always be peace

And I will always be home / I have a home waiting for me.

What is life if not just a walk in the dark,

Where one’s path is always lit up by the light of his soul.

Credits: Dragos Radu (2022, The Diary Of A Nobody)

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Dragos Radu - Home

Written: 2022

Summary & Story:

Poem:

There is a sun

I die to see again.

Not the sun that

Sets and rises,

But the one always up

And shining,

Illuminating all beings

From within.

The sun, which makes life move,

And energy flow,

Tirelessly in the soul.

I crave it so much

I crave it as a home.

Now the lights are off

And my soul is blinded

By the never-ending winter

Of the night.

There is calm,

But there’s no peace.

There is hope,

But there’s no light to guide it.

I miss the sun,

I miss its warmth and grace,

I miss my home.

There’s a bell ringing

In the night.

A state of alert

Established in the meadow

Where I sit dreaming

Of light and peace.

The sound breaks

My dreaming.

It awakens me

From a restless sleep,

That seemed endless at first.

As I open my eyes,

Light breaks in

So radiant, so powerful,

And with a rush of adrenaline

It stands me up,

Sun-gazing, filling every cell

Of my body with light,

Peace,

And ultimately freedom.

I now can hear the birds sing,

The caressing wind blowing

Softly through my hair,

The vibrant air of a new spring day.

I feel at home, and I feel safe.

I have always been.

I will always be,

Despite the depths and darkness of my dreams.

Once I open my eyes,

There will always be light,

There will always be sun.

There will always be peace

And I will always be home / I have a home waiting for me.

What is life if not just a walk in the dark,

Where one’s path is always lit up by the light of his soul.

Credits: Dragos Radu (2022, The Diary Of A Nobody)

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Previous Episode

E11: Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night - Dylan Thomas

Dylan Thomas - Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Written in: 1947

Published in: 1951 in the journal Botteghe Oscure (wikipedia, 2022)

Theme & Story:

"In the first stanza of "Do Not Go Gentle", the speaker encourages their father not to "go gentle into that good night" but rather to "rage, rage against the dying of the light." Then, in the subsequent stanzas, they proceed to list all manner of men, using terms such as "wise", "good", "wild", and "grave" as descriptors, who, in their own respective ways, embody the refrains of the poem. In the final stanza, the speaker implores their father, whom they observe upon a "sad height", begging him to "Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears", and reiterates the refrains once more." (source: wikipedia, 2022)

Poem:

Do not go gentle into that good night,Old age should burn and rave at close of day;Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right,Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night.Good men, the last wave by, crying how brightTheir frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,Do not go gentle into that good night.Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sightBlind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.And you, my father, there on the sad height,Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.Do not go gentle into that good night.Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Credits: Dylan Thomas (1951 - Botteghe Oscure Journal)

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Next Episode

E13: Burnt Norton Pt. 1 - T.S. Eliot

T.S. Eliot - Burnt Norton Pt. 1

Written in: Burnt Norton is the first poem of the 4 Quartets of T.S. Eliot. This quartet was published in 1936 and in 1943 appeared together with the other 3 quartets. (source: poemanalysis.com, 2022)

Theme:

The main theme of ‘Burnt Norton is the nature of time, its relation to salvation, and the contrast between the experience of the modern man and spirituality. The lyrical voice meditates on life and the need to subscribe to the universal order. The poem’s structure and form are similar to T. S. Eliot’s The Wasteland, as several fragments of poetry are put together and set as one. The rhyme and meter rely on the repetition and circularity of language, which corresponds to the conception of time introduced in the poem. Light and dark, movement and stillness, and roses are some of the motifs that appear in ‘Burnt Norton’. (source: poemanalysis.com, 2022)

Poem:

Time present and time pastAre both perhaps present in time future,And time future contained in time past.If all time is eternally presentAll time is unredeemable.What might have been is an abstractionRemaining a perpetual possibilityOnly in a world of speculation.What might have been and what has beenPoint to one end, which is always present.Footfalls echo in the memoryDown the passage which we did not takeTowards the door we never openedInto the rose-garden. My words echoThus, in your mind.But to what purposeDisturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leavesI do not know.Other echoesInhabit the garden. Shall we follow?Quick, said the bird, find them, find them,Round the corner. Through the first gate,Into our first world, shall we followThe deception of the thrush? Into our first world.There they were, dignified, invisible,Moving without pressure, over the dead leaves,In the autumn heat, through the vibrant air,And the bird called, in response toThe unheard music hidden in the shrubbery,And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the rosesHad the look of flowers that are looked at.There they were as our guests, accepted and accepting.So we moved, and they, in a formal pattern,Along the empty alley, into the box circle,To look down into the drained pool.Dry the pool, dry concrete, brown edged,And the pool was filled with water out of sunlight,And the lotos rose, quietly, quietly,The surface glittered out of heart of light,And they were behind us, reflected in the pool.Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty.Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.Go, go, go, said the bird: human kindCannot bear very much reality.Time past and time futureWhat might have been and what has beenPoint to one end, which is always present.

Credits: T.S. Eliot 1936/1943 - Four Quartets and poemanalysis.com, 2022

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