The shout of the dying rays of the sun echoing in the long tunnel, bouncing off the walls. A deep red flooding the floor of one of the exits for an instant, its intensity lasting long enough to remind me of the verses: “Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights/But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart's knowledge.”
Three exits. Three gates to knowledge. Three ways “to touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams”. One points at the still, life-sized Saurischia that once populated the Earth. The other one leads us down the path of pants and knickers. The third one celebrates the hundredth year of Einstein’s theory of relativity.
Three exits. Three gates to knowledge for which there cannot be scales, since knowledge is a treasure that cannot be weighed, as the poet said (more or less). I walk down the long, straight tunnel, the dying rays of a summer sun that has not been allowed to shine as brightly as it would have probably wished, screaming through two of the three exits. Exits that are gates. Gates that remind me not to seek “the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line/For self is a sea boundless and measureless.”
I stop at one of the exits. A flash of pink hits me on the face and with it the last two lines of the poem, its verses enveloping me in the sticky, humid London evening: “The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed/The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.“
© 2016
Photo taken by the blog author
Next Post: “Saturday Evenings: Stay In, Sit Up and Switch On”, to be published on Saturday 9th July at 6pm (GMT)
Wonderful words. I enjoyed this enough to read it twice.
ReplyDeleteSelf is sure the way to go, best knowledge comes from doing.
ReplyDeleteAwesome words. Wishing you all the best!
ReplyDeleteLove the lotus soul image.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful post. Thank you.
I wonder if that is the South Kensington museums tunnel. If so, it makes me feel quite detached from the world to be there, and poetry does seem appropriate.
ReplyDeleteYou guessed it right! :-) It is the South Kensington tunnel. The Natural History Museum to one side. Almost directly opposite is the V&A and further down is the Science Museum.
DeleteNo matter the time of the day the tunnel is spooky-looking, but especially so at dusk or just as evening is falling. I could only remember one of the lines from Kahlil Gibran's poem. As soon as I got home I had to go find the rest. :-)
Great post! And your tunnel photo reminds me of a few tunnels here in Montreal!
ReplyDeleteLovely post, lovely photo.
ReplyDeleteA melancholy mood comes through to give a soft feeling and vision.
Different than your usual, but nice to see another side of you.
Lovely words...Your imagery is compelling.
ReplyDeleteInteresting thought patterns and associations, CiL.
ReplyDeleteMy focus when within a tunnel has become cliché driven and never advances beyond looking for the light at the end of it.
Lovely. And the urban equivalent of Frost's Paths in a Yellow Wood, maybe.
ReplyDeleteThe tunnel reminded me of creepy subways we once had in the city... removed because of delinquents and attacks on people. Therefore, if I were to venture in, only your poetry would lighten my way.
ReplyDeleteI like that last line--of the soul unfolding like a lotus.
ReplyDeleteLovely image and words.
ReplyDeleteHow lovely and poetic!
ReplyDeleteYou describe so well how the city captures light. Thanks. K.
ReplyDeleteI like your descriptions of the three exits....
ReplyDeleteBeautiful post, CIL. You're quite the poet.
ReplyDeleteHave a wonderful weekend!
Oh how deep this is, CiL...how utterly profound!
ReplyDeleteOh WOW!!!
Have a fabulous weekend.:))
this tunnel made me uneasy. Don´t know why :(
ReplyDeleteThe only one gates for knowledge is learn :D
ReplyDeleteThis is very beautiful. I love how you interspersed the quotations. Perfectly woven.
ReplyDelete