Kaleidoscopic cloak and crown of ambivalence

Split the first stanza into two, lose some of the "the sound" repetition...then don't change another single thing, cuz this is great. Respectfully Jim "Laws and rules don't kill freedom: narrow-minded intolerance does" : Race

This is indeed a very lovely poem. I have been postponing comment for a time. I have set out below lines that are my personal favourites (and one maybe spelling matter). Ambivalence was the word in the poem which most struck me. In my experience, normal ambivalence is attached to things which socially do not matter. We are natural editors of the stimuli of the senses; to be otherwise would make us spinning tops, unable to prioritize in any milieu. Sometimes ambivalence is more that the usual, reflective of a adverse world view premised upon the idea that if expectations are low to non-existent then somehow life will be easier. As if surrendering at the start is somehow more noble, satisfying and useful than surrendering after trying. Some things are confused with ambivalence: experience, deference, priorities, even care. Those who are most ambivalent, in my experience, are those who cannot respect themselves but cannot seek ultimate surrender either. They live in somewhat self made purgatories, unable to sally-forth into sunshine, for who knows when it will rain again. They are still only nominally ambivalent about life, for they do not trust themselves for any enterprise. And so in loathing and anger they are anything but ambivalent. Then there is sexual ambivalence. There are so many aspects to this topic that one hardly knows where to begin. Let us say, for simplicity sake, that a normal example is the difference between dreaming and wakefulness, whether in actuality or metaphor. Men are sufficiently stuffed with testosterone that sublimation is often the only course with the sufficient levels of stress, morality and care. Ambivalence in this context is often a social good, although the word is rarely used in this fashion. Returning to the majority of the poem, these are my highlights: We are seekers mainly… (or hiders… blindly dust bowl bound) Angels tapping at your shoulder, do you bother turning ‘round? I see you flinch at phantoms, I know this inner cringe, the sound The sound of losses streaming by - The sound of falling The sound of nothing coming back from frantic calling The sound of turning from a dream yet unfulfilled The overwhelming din of what is left when love is killed Sparkling and contagious, love is seeded Seeming random, but in hindsight, where it’s needed Growth is gruelling, or gentle in it’s thrust[grueling, my US spell checker says] Brutal to the birthing, or soft, slow bloomed, like lust Why would you try to shake it off, or hide? You are kaleidoscopic jumble cloaked, crowned only by ambivalence. Softly rain begins again, each single drop, a dream There is always shadow where falls brightness, You are more and more challenging in your writing. I think that is a good thing. It is the engine of literature and poetry. Brian

This was amazing Anni. Honestly it touched, bewildered and inspired me. Your work is absoloutley enchanting. Your quickly becoming one of my favourite reads. Kind regards Talia. :)

Wild giants in the cosmos here 
Little weeny entities we are
 Flailing, frightened, enlightened, woeful, lost and found. 
Encumbered, outnumbered, driven underground.
 Too often broken, unable to trust… but what? 
The treadmill of uncertainty, did you measure up … or not?
 So many bold illusions keep us tethered to the ground
 We are seekers mainly… (or hiders… blindly dust bowl bound) (You give us tongue twisters Anni)
 Angels tapping at your shoulder, do you bother turning ‘round? 
I see you flinch at phantoms, I know this inner cringe, the sound
 The sound of losses streaming by - The sound of falling 
The sound of nothing coming back from frantic calling
 The sound of turning from a dream yet unfulfilled
 The overwhelming din of what is left when love is killed When all the silence here is deafening and cold 
it’s often magic twilight, when the precious gifts unfold
 Sparkling and contagious, love is seeded 
Seeming random, but in hindsight, where it’s needed
 Growth is grueling, or gentle in it’s thrust
 Brutal to the birthing, or soft, slow bloomed, like lust 
Why would you try to shake it off, or hide?
 There is no escaping changes, they push from deep inside.....( there's- for the rhythm?) 
This thing will lay you bare eventually… .......................That’s just my guess
 But unlike you, I can’t insist it’s true… .........................You may stay sheltered in your mess.
 All the same I wish you comfort and deliverance 
You are kaleidoscopic jumble cloaked, crowned only by ambivalence....You're kaleidoscopic Softly rain begins again, each single drop, a dream
 Obscuring heaven’s speckled jewels, reducing moon to muffled gleam
 Too weary this bedraggled, hopeful speck 
Too weighted down tonight to recreate love, hope… respect
 But as I gently close
 One bright star thus exposed 
I sink to pillows of humility and breathe 
And lay respectfully at shrine of hope, the bright blooms I receive
 There is always shadow where falls brightness, 
 and my heart pulls, warmed to lightness. 
See you there, 
I’ll be draped in ether’s prose. _____________________________________________ Anni there's a strange mixed feeling I get from this, I don' know why, it is wieldy with words what? Some lovely and some strange ways of putting things enjoyable Anni. I feel it is what E calls 'uspiselig' not easy to eat, or difficult to read when there is one big block of words to read, so I took the liberty of dividing it here and there, tthe here and there you could rearrange of course, and maybe you do not agree either, so never mind, just ad thoughts about it! Love to you Anni from Ann of Norway I do like Brian's comment and agrree with some of the bits he likes best too.

I love the fairy-tale-like journey you took me on here dear Anni, I saw a felt the venues ou described, the feeling, the strengths and weaknesses the fire and shine:- "Softly rain begins again, each single drop, a dream
 Obscuring heaven’s speckled jewels, reducing moon to muffled gleam" "So many bold illusions keep us tethered to the ground" Oh a fine tale well said Anni, from Anushka.