/lit/ - Literature

>>20188543
Inspired by Meredith's "The Lark Ascending."
The Dhamma-Bird (Working Title)

He drops the stately string of sound,
And notes from Heaven come unbound,
Unwinding on aerial wings,
Descending as their vessel sings;
In all the towns which dot the hills,
A quiet rapture each ear thrills,
A rapture in each silver note,
A cosmos caught within a mote
Suspended in a single ray
Which falls to light the music's way
From higher realm to realm below,
Amid the turbid ebb and flow
Where men and misery collide;
With voice full-throated, on the tide
Of some dark river he alights,
Seeing at once the distant lights
Of passions alien to him
Whose music penetrates the dim,
Falling on ears which faintly grasp
The melody, and faintly clasp
The feeling, as it echoes on,
Renouncing all that has been done
To stifle him whose soul contains
Public bereavements, private pains,
Personal joy, collective woe,
Phantasms which silently go
As if they had not left their mark,
Like two clouds passing in the dark.

The feeling, gently dropping, sets
On hidden sentiments, begets
A sudden impulse in the hearer
To leave himself, that he be nearer
To him who sings beneath the Sun,
And bids all things to be as One,
So that distinctions disappear,
As on each liberated ear
The song alights, afresh, anew,
Each melody like morning dew
Cleansing the parched and dying earth;
From transmigration and rebirth
The impulse crafted by the song
Saves those imbibing deep and long;
Yet those who know but cannot drink
Lest they allow themselves to sink
Into annihilation's grip,
Still take a hesitating sip,
A scrap of music they perceive,
And in the moment they take leave
Of all phenomena, and go,
Melting into a purer flow
Where mind abides within its own,
Unbound from pains which drone and drone.

The world dissolves as on he goes,
Singing, dissolving worldly woes,
Until this world's phenomena
Dissolve into euphoria,
Into abiding joy, which lasts
And has no end, for Time has passed
Which limited our joys and sorrows,
Sorting us into eves and morrows,
Into the months, years, centuries
Which limit capabilities
For liberation in this world;
Now, with the soul at last unfurled,
Now with the Deathless to behold,
Now with the selfless and unsouled,
Now with no hindrances to end,
His song begins, at last, to wend
Its way up to the highest peak,
Crescendoing as the notes seek
The peace which we cannot discern
Who labor here, whose spirits burn
With craving, yet unpurified,
Hanging upon the turgid tide
Of that dark river where he sang,
Where first our ears and spirits rang
With echoes of his message, fair
As that which first coursed through the air
And fell upon the world, and brought
To us renunciating thought;
And still his song rings in the world,
Calling the soul to be unfurled,
Calling us to forsake the throng,
To sing the self-denying song,
To live with pure and selfless mind,
To leave our craving selves behind,
So that we find our refuge there,
Within his song, in empty air.

Hi /lit/ quick thing to ask

I'm writing about a cult and i have one character who gets psychosis from all the stress the cult brings

As a person with psychosis i wanted to write some of my life into the characters (You know write what you know)

However after he "hears the voice of god" they put him up as one of gods choosen children

Then the "God" tells him to sarfice one of his friends and this uspets the character but he does it anyway because of the cults in doctor nation

then the friend he froced to kill his other friend kills him self

Is this ableist? I understand i'm a person with psychosis but i feel i never protray my disorder corrently