Summary

The poem "The Sacred and the Profane" explores the liberating possibilities of living without the burdens of past and future, guilt, and societal expectations, embracing a life of spontaneity, renewal, and harmony with nature.

Abstract

The poem presents a series of reflective "What if" scenarios that envision a life unshackled from the weight of history and the anxiety of the future. It imagines a world where each day begins with a clean slate, free from shame, blame, and predetermined fate. The speaker yearns for a life devoid of guilt, where one can run wild and free without the constraints of societal norms or self-imposed limitations. The verses paint a picture of existential freedom, where sleep is undisturbed by regret, and each day is spent in a state of grace, unmarred by the need for validation or the fear of judgment. The poem advocates for a life lived in wisdom and insight, where one can honor both the sacred and the profane, finding beauty in the simplicity of nature's embrace and the joy of going with the flow.

Opinions

The author suggests that without the burden of past regrets or future anxieties, individuals could live more authentically and freely.
There is a strong desire expressed for emotional release from guilt, grief, and societal expectations.
The poem conveys a sense of frustration with the repetitive and rehearsed nature of modern life, advocating for a more spontaneous and genuine existence.
It posits that true wisdom comes from acknowledging and integrating both the sacred and the profane aspects of life, rather than seeking redemption or forgiveness.
The text implies that living without the need to conform to others' expectations or to constantly justify one's actions can lead to a more peaceful and enlightened state of being.
The poem emphasizes the beauty and enchantment found in the natural world when one is not hindered by internal or external conflicts.

The Sacred and the Profane

A poem to unlock your soul

What if…

I awoke each day with a brand-new empty slate? No infamy to shame or name. No predetermined fate. No steadfast past to shed at last or simply weigh me down. No uncertain, unknown future — to trip me to the ground.

There’d be no grief for me to groan. No busted seams to be re-sewn. No condemnation to condone. No hostile tyrants to un-throne.

Without my guilt to keep me stuck within this sodden muck, I’d run barefoot with my wild child — And I’d barely give a fuck.

What if…

I went to bed feeling unblemished and renewed? No claim of shifting blame, no anxious, melancholic blues. No spectral apparitions to haunt me in my sleep. No fixations to unlearn, no sweeping promises to un-keep.

There’d be no sins to confess. No obsessions to repress. No transgressions to address. No vanquished fortress to possess.

With nothing to rehearse, review, reframe, or be replaced, I’d dance upon a gleaming moon — and fuck off in deeper space.

What if…

I spent my days without prescription or design? No prey for me to slay, no mounted trophies to enshrine. No need to hide or minimize my unrequited tears. No dread or trepidation, no more unrelenting fears.

There’d be no strain upon my brain, No insane moods to entertain. No sham apologies to feign. No fragile contracts to enchain.

Without the moats and walls, I’ve built to fortify my soul, I’d dive naked into waterfalls — and go with the fucking flow.

What if…

I was gifted with vast wisdom and insight? No undertakings to awaken. No misguided lessons to ignite. No ancient tabs to reimburse, no misdeeds to make amends. No demons to un-demonize, no toxic people to unfriend.

There’d be no trace of my disgrace. No wounded place to be erased. No keeping up or losing face. No lonely hunters to give chase.

With no crimes to reprieve or preconceptions to conceive — I’d tell the tallest-fucking-tales that you ever could believe.

What if…

I could honor both the sacred and the profane? No sins to be forgiven. No redemption preordained. No need for me to sacrifice ecclesiastic bliss. I’d find enchantment and euphoria in nature’s simple kiss.

There’d be no wars or will to fight. There’d be no darkness, only light. There’d be no blindness, only sight. There’d be no pain, no hate, no spite.

With the planets and the stars aligned in perfect tempo, beat, and time, I’d rewrite my living stories — and I’d make all those fuckers rhyme.