*** Thanatos-A Death Wish *** Comments

Yes; I like it for its innovative thinking.

You create a great poem in your own clever style why are moths so silly? now I know...thanks for that...regards

death wish - oh, my oh my, death wish - what with all my sins and tendency towrd concupiscence, indulge my desires, death wish. I the moth seduced by fire; burn, baby burn; deathwish. Then it's not enough, mere pleasures do not satisfy. In the end I seek the safety of the virtues and from there watch the flame. This is great, Anjali.

Oh! Now this is what I'm looking for in poetry. Wonderiffical!

hi Anjali, I too felt that the name of Thanatos was not needed here while you have many ikons around you to picture death or mortality. Or else if you wanted really to say about death you could have used the Roman version of the god Thanatos. In Roman version his name is Mors. Only the name of thanatos was odd dear else it is fine writing. Even in greek mythology we cant see the physical presence of Thanatos in many places. Regards Vinoop

nice write... very delicate....

I love this attitude 'But will rise again like a phoenix'.. like your view......... nice write anju

The great desire..taking the risk.. Very unique version of yours..words come in relations..flowing intertwined... Thanks for sharing this wonderful poem..A 10+++!

An alluring game moths love to play, the fire within them burns to the top unless desires have been truly satisfied...great imagery and work! Symbolic poem. a 10.

Speak of happiness Of death we heard Much of sorrows Tonight in soft Satin and silk A candle low See the moth In dance of love We know we perish Let us celebrate The passing moment Let the moth burn In the heat of your love

To hear what is unspoken, to see what is invisible, to feel without without even touching... is the miracle called Love.

no words...sheer delightment!

It is magnificent.. I lost my words.. Beautiful.. Thanks..

I love this poem and do see the 'Moth to the flame' connection. So many times I think people are the same way. Pushing things to far or taking risks that need not be taken. I think this is a brilliant poem very well written. 10

beautifully penned. very good pohilosophical thought

Very vivid and compelling. One of the best I have read on this subject. Warm regards, Sandra

This is a nice poem. Beautiful and I like it. Thanks Anjali

hey u have done really well :) i like your poems they are great

well done i liked...a very beautiful writing...10.... :) Hataw

From: Suzanne Hayasaki To: Anjali Sinha Date-Time: 11/27/2008 2: 26: 00 AM (GMT -6: 00) Subject: Thanatos - Very nice work! Maybe your best so far. I have removed my poems from the site, but I also talk about releasing yourself into flames, so I am attaching my poem for you: I am the Temple Just as there is no hierarchy in heaven, There will be no high priest in my holiest of holies. I am not a place of worship. I am a place of communion. With the Universe, With the Earth and all her life-giving forms. With our fellow temporarily human souls. With our own divine nature. We all have a sanctum, Deep within us, From which spouts the fount of baptism, The essence of eternal life, Of ever re-newed hope Of every possibility for being Especially for being loved: By our fellow man, By God. By All There Is. We just have to go in search of it: Torch in hand, Heart in our teeth, As we creep through the cob-webbed corridors of our soul, Moldy, claustrophobic, leading downwards into darkness. But if we battle our inner-dragons, And journey ever-onwards, Ignoring fatigue and apprehension, Nibbling on the last crumbs of bread stashed in our packs, We will arrive at the innermost sanctum of our souls. It will appear to most to be a blast furnace. This is where the final act of courage is required: We must walk into the blaze, Unprotected, unaided by spells or totems. We must give ourselves up to the flames fully expecting to be annihilated, Welcoming complete consummation with eternity. Few are brave or desperate enough to take the first step. Most turn back when the heat bakes their face and singes their hair, But for the few who walk on into the center of the flame, There is true release: What we assumed to be our identity was simply a husk, A living casket. What we truly are is something amorphous: Something which retains all that we have ever been, And yet leaves us free to be everything and nothing at all, Simultaneously. It is as if you have walked though a docking gate into a new dimension. That dimension is me: The Temple. The Sanctuary. The One. Look around you at the contributions of your fellow souls: Christopher Wren and Francisco de Goya teamed up to create the illusions of space. Michelangelo and da Vinci are continually painting over each other’s work. Bach and Beethoven are feuding out a fugue. All is beauty in evolution. What will you contribute? Suzanne