Airy Nothings

 

From a most admired friend, William Shakespeare, in Hamlet affixed in verse eternal:
 
“Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, such shaping fantasies
That apprehend more than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover and the poet are of imagination all compact.
The poet’s pen gives to airy nothing a local habitation and a name.”
 
AIRY NOTHINGS

By Teak Kilmer

I too lie down with words, in the reading and the writing
 
That which we can know by sensate pleasures
Pales before what we may forage with our souls
In our whimsical meanderings, airy nothings,
Round Spirit’s laughter and angels’ comforts
Apparitions of grander providence and conceptions bring
Rushes fore and aft and tickle to my fancy, so
That I might wonder why ever I have caved
To worry, fear and doubt …
 
But fleeting are these Holy Moments and soon forgot
When pitching headlong into depression’s grave
Cowering, then bellowing-back … at anxiety’s injustice
Despairing near suicide – over what? –
We can hardly grasp a hint of. TRAPPED, again!
 
Noise, traffic, lights: bright and flashing, laundry,
Dishes, garbage, or just putting on my socks?
These are as the boulder of Sisyphus for us … with emotion sickness
 
 How then does one remember and indeed again embrace –
 
I am always cradled in arms of Spirit,
Lullabied in psalms of promise?