My first synthetic ode. This form hybridizes the near-original Grecian ode form of Pindar and the dialectic of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis. I will eventually write an article about this form and what I hope to accomplish through its exploration. For the time being, I hope you’ll find this an enjoyable, or at least interesting, read.
Ode for Joy
I
Her eye was caught by a distant name,
unfamiliar and yet not quite.
Inspired, she followed a dream that came
from somewhere deep in her quiet heart,
a link that led to an unexpected hope,
born of intuitive sense
cradled in bamboo song,
confirmed by a kindred voice that helped console
the reign of a keen unrest
that troubled her, unconfessed.
Canticles from another time
settled near
in the curve of her ear,
bringing a dark horizon light,
raising the sun
where a half-moon hung,
until her soul, embraced by vibrant hues
of promise, once again became her cherished home.
II
He felt the touch of a silken tongue
brush his mind from across the world
with observations and thoughts, half sung
in accents cast from a dreamtime mold.
Intrigued, he listened to every tuneful word
whispered with delicate breath
soft as a moonstone breeze,
expressed from a place of enigmatic birth,
where steady Pacific rains
sang life in refined refrains
straight to his heart through lays unknown
to his ear,
just abolishing fear,
welcoming home forgotten hopes
faded within,
but arisen again
like morning rays on cloudscapes scattered far,
igniting new horizons to vibrant shades of faith.
III
Their pasts unravel thread
into a bright new tapestry.
They’re both reborn and dead
to what was once and what will be.
Visions leap before their view,
revealing possibilities,
and each is clear on what to do
to make them actualities.
And so begins
the recreation of their lives
as deep within
a transformation of their minds
reveals the way
to stand forever side by side.
The best thread of their days is used
in the shuttle of their unity
to weave a scene they know by trust
on a loom of shared serenity.
Joy is my fiance, whom I met online purely by chance. She, from her life in the Philippines, one day stumbled across a poem I had posted elsewhere, “Perfect Silence”, and found herself researching its author. On one profile she found my Yahoo Instant Messenger ID, and on another she read that I work with children but don’t want to have any. Then she popped me a message out of the blue, “How could you work with children and yet not want to have any of your own?”
Needless to say, I was puzzled by this note from a complete stranger. I responded with one word, “Overpopulation”. This sparked a conversation—or perhaps debate—that lasted four hours. The next day we talked on the phone. The day after that, Skype. And we’ve been talking-talking ever since.
