Posted by: physicalimmortalitythemasspossibility | June 21, 2010

Physical Immortality Philosophy Poetry

Kate from  has given me permission to share some of her poetic musings on physical immortality philosophy. 

Ever growing older / never growing old
Adding centuries to her resume.

Uncommon skills cling to her.
They glow with light, then turn invisible.
They become her skin / they become herself.

The more she knows, the less it shows.
The less she stands out.
Not above anyone / inspiring everyone
Beauty not visible / incapable of being missed.

She has become your neighbor. She is here now.
She whispers: live. Live. LIVE.

– Kate

On a woman¿s face / a wild primeval smile

Shining with the power / Of one who¿s lived

Since the dawn of history.

Since the dawn of words.

She is not elderly /merely ancient.

Ancient beyond imagining /but forever young.

She has borne children, outlived them / outlived whole tribes

Outlived whole nations, languages and peoples /born of her.

She is the Eldest among women

– Kate

Reflections on words heard spoken on a bridge: “The Darkness and the Light need each other.”

In too much light / the stained human soul is washed away,

Those blood-stained colors in all their beauty /faded to pure spirit,

Shining, translucent, without stain. /So great a loss for so great a gain!

Not to trivialize / for there is dark so strong it breaks the heart

Even breaks the soul /And healing comes too late.

Some of us who’ve touched such pain / choose pure light

Pure spiritual grace /and gladly transcend the guttering stage.

But others may find in that flickering, half-dark flame / a more human grace.

Don’t we need one another, for all we take take our differing ways?

— Kate

Who we were as children informs us / often all too much
Decade after decade devoted / to fulfilling and transcending
Those first years (moments!) when we were new.

How easily would someone born a thousand years ago / come to trust
that the time has come / at last
When it is possible / in oh so many ways
To choose life?

How easy is it for us / born just whispers ago
to trust?

— Kate

To look in a mirror / and see a woman who

grows old so slowly / it will be centuries before the signs appear.

Who has her own young beauty / hers to keep

Freed from the dread other women consummate.

Heads ever turn as she passes by.

Her bloom of pride retained /Her hair silken, skin satin smooth.

Would centuries give time enough / to heal the sense of +not enough+?

Or would /a mirror always safe to look at

Withhold from her the other peace?


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