The Gull that Flew in a Spanish Sky

The Gull that Flew in a Spanish Sky

A seagull flew across the sky
A child saw it fly
He spoke to the gull in Spanish
The gull that flew in a Spanish sky

The child asked the gull his name
But the Gull flew on by
The child ran after him
After the seagulls cry

Had he known the gull by name
The child would have addressed him so
Instead he could only watch him fly
And follow the seagulls cry

The gull flew out to the sea
And the child could follow no more
He stood against the shore
Then lay in the waves and cried

A seagull flew across the sea
Where no child can follow
No one there to hear his cry
The gull that flew in a Spanish sky



I wrote this poem a few years ago, it is an exploration of the Romantic impulse, we all follow our seagulls and when we do it is the very breath of meaning, we hear the call, we might even see the gull, and we are drawn to "catch it", not to hold it in our hands, but to follow, to have something to follow, the gull becomes an idol just because for a moment our senses our captivated in chase, we love whatever captivates us away from the truth of experience, and we hate the ocean that we always knew was there, we know that following the Romantic impulse will only lead us there, to the impassible, maybe death, maybe all Romanticism is the courting of death, an ancient death-rite, a mystery religion entirely our own, Romanticism leads to the subjective, it is the road away from the objective, reaching the ocean is the moment that you must return to where you began, to leave the waters and the beach, to find your home again, not led by the call anymore, but led by the failure of the subjective to return to the objective, the cry of failure.