Sunday, December 11, 2005

CP5: The Death of Poetics

In the end, it comes to this. A community of poets, when healthy, should be like a majestic pyramid, where the ordinary create the foundation for the great. And those from above provide assistance to those from below aspiring to grander heights. And the greatest will serve the larger community all around, visible from all four directions, providing us our living sacred myths. Such a community is worthwhile in every way.

But when the pyramid is flattened into some kind of low plateau, barely visible to those on the ground, then participation in that community becomes more a self-interested one than a truly cooperative one. It becomes more concerned with the materialistic rather than the divine. It fails to provide the spiritual leadership required in these dire profane days. In other words, it becomes just another ecological disaster in the midst of all the same.

Nothing great will ever grow from its contaminated midst. Everything ordinary will lose heart.


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