The peculiar difference between poems and other forms of writing, is poetry’s despairing attempt to extract the essence of every word, punctuation, tone, colour, smell and intangible virtues.
Imagine flying; now imagine floating. Flying indicates an expectation for an eventual destination, a motion of take-off, a somewhat premeditation of a durational journey that will call for an end due to exhaustion, fulfilment or interruption. Flying implies urgency, travelling from one place to another, the flyer made promise to himself that once he touched the suffocating cloud, he is two steps closer to coming home.
Don’t get too close to the sun, they said. Flying writes danger, as it pairs so well with liberty, a ridding of constrains, ignoring the time and space as mortals’ restrictions, the exclusive implication of an unusual, inhuman ability through a sky who holds air, and never death.
Floating, initiated with the same motion as flying however with far less rigour and a weaker punch, nonetheless remains an inhuman ability.
The lack of urgency made this lingo for levitation much less desirable, think one is the evolution to the other, with superiority in play reminding us of choices for practicality and efficiency.
Floating couldn’t seal a promise, it submits to the knowing, something within the perimeter of safety and determined routes. It gets associated with meditation because of its unfaithful compromises with physical distance. Rather than a display of godly talents, floating announces its humane connection to mortals’ capability, superiority without hierarchy, pride without jargon.
To float is to separate. From land to air, man to divine, walk of an ordinary as opposed to an escalation of heavenly bias.
Floating suggests innocence without ignorance, division in societal boundaries by doing the bare minimum to establish one’s simple wish to traverse height so aimless, as the sycamore grows fruit mindless of displaying its floral days.
And only by sitting along a beach, I realised ‘float’ on its own carries a vastly diverse interpretation.
To float air,
To float water.
With the support of a more ot less visible neighbouring medium, the same word floats between mortality and divinity.
Floating in water imposes physical restrictions, so far away from any horizon, miles of contemplation until impact of the sea bed that sleeps all, a watered body judges everyone’s metaphysical weight with a deafening silence second to the the vacuumed space who holds nothing and everything.
In the highly contrasted corner of imagination, floating in air feels fairy tale. Self-sustaining, lack supporting of external pushes; a feather’s undecidedness to touch the ground; a bubble’s fearful descending ascension; a let-loose balloon who steadily draws disassociation with a child’s incapability to understand goodbyes.
Poetry, less about choosing the correct word, but discussion of the strange connections between floating and flying, the weightless cotton in your eyes, frames a translation, soul to be touched with ink.
