This poem is a re-working of one I had written three years ago. Much has changed in three years and I felt the need to change the lines to my poetry too. But some of them remain like a bridge between then and now. Often beauty is portrayed as a woman, subject to the male gaze, endowed with feminine attributes and twisted to suit the male taste. This poem is an ode to Kalon – the beautiful and Kalon is a he.
Morose thoughts swirled, bereft of beauty seemed the world,
In this hunger, in this gore, surely beauty could exist no more.
‘Kalon! Where did you vanish?’ was the constant refrain of my heart beat,
Now my eyes are open and there is misery; misery everywhere in pitiful heaps.
Never to appear before mortals, never to grace this dreary land,
Dead is Kalon, the mists whispered; buried is he, Kalon crumbling in the dust beneath me,
Gone is he from this age of weakness, for only the worthy may restrain him, grasping his hand!
Death’s half-brother softly stole him away in a vespine drone of lullaby.
Swiftly was Kalon hustled into the waiting embrace of the night,
And all that is good fled with him in a dust storm of glory,
But can Kalon ever truly leave? I wondered,
When in restless souls like mine, lives he.
Did we not create him? We the flesh puppets of nature’s whims,
Did we not trap him in our stone sculptures and poetry?
And in our hubris did we not believe them to be immortal?
How then can he leave when each mind creates him in its own image!
Forever bound is he to the human race and he plays both master and slave,
Do beasts sigh over the exquisite beauty of sunsets? I cannot tell,
But green forever shall remain the ground Kalon treads upon.
A never ending dream of beauty I live in, never ceasing like the waves that crash upon the patient shore,
Not for this undeserving world were you made Kalon, and yet, from this realm you shall never leave.