Logos, the illuminating word, is a threat to the intrinsic ambiguity of existence; it fragments an existence already shredded by time. Logos is the form-giving principle, and I despise form. Even my lower soul, my anima, despises form because it is only in the moral and existential ambiguity of my Being that it gets to wallow in the shadows of the underworld and sink into the abyss of meaninglessness where it finds the highest freedom.
Logos is the ray of light; it is a threat to darkness. But it is also a threat to the necessary ambiguity for creative impulse. The only place where I can have some gentle light, some castrated and safe logos, and some creative freedom, is in poetry.
Poetry is the soft light; it is not sharp like laser but gentle like the incoherent light of my study; it lights my room but also lets the shadows loose and relax. Oh, I love the shadows; in them I miss my beloved, for a shadow is nothing but the missing of light.
I cannot love the light without loving the shadow. I am a lover of this world, of its darkness and injustice too, for it is the ugly and the unjust that heighten my consciousness of beauty and justice. We are more conscious of beauty in the presence of the ugly than in its absence. In an all white-colored room, the consciousness of whiteness dies out soon and gets lost in the monotony of a homogenous perception.
Oh, I love imperfect and inhomogeneous things, for it is falling short that keeps me high; it is imperfection that keeps me awake to perfection. I love all my defects; I adore them like my pets; they are my blessings, my support. How can I not love everything that I am, my light and my shadows alike!
For consciousness, a perfect heaven becomes all hell. I love and praise this earth where heaven and hell can live by and enliven me. I love even my hell. My hell is my own; it is my ground and my truth. I walk my hell everyday, and I even take it out for a stroll in the city, but I keep it on leash, a leash made of leach, so it doesn’t escape. But I know it won’t! Hell is good and loyal. Try getting rid of it and it will come back even stronger. Your hell is your boomerang.
Oh dear, love your hell; hell is family.