The Stone's Curse, The Blue Flower's Cure
An Homage to Novalis.
None know truly what is this thing called life, A thing that must be felt rather than thought. Hovโring, the soul โpon the edge of a knife, โTwixt that which one does and that which one ought.
At times the ought be written in the book, Yet the heart seeks paths written in star-lore. Searching for touch, taste, the thrill of a look, Whilst the weight of stone-law would freeze the core.
A thousand thou shalt notโs impress the mind. Lo! The Soul murmurs not, tired is she, Of so many words that would twist and bind. Ever does she yearn for love's ecstasy.
O didst those rocks cry out โneath the chisel, And curse man that he should disturb their rest? โPon faceless faces carved jot and tittle, Who felt not the pulsing star in his chest.
Felt not the rhythm of starlings in flight, Nor the Virginโs sorrows in a rain showโr. Felt not the longing of the quiet night, Or searched not the heavโns for a pale-blue flow'r.



So much longing in our true nature, a compass that quivers toward the Beloved. Thank you for this homage. I didn't know about Novalis til now.
Love it!