All that remains
Of soldiers’ dreams” —Bashō Matsuo (via rhea137)
Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before or after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
T.S. Eliot, ‘East Coker’ from Four Quartets
And I have searched the highths and depths, the scope
Of all our universe, with desperate hope
To find some solace for your wild unrest.
—James Thomson, “The City of Dreadful Night”
The sun is an example of a supremely sensitive being because it can always disappear.
—Liberté et Patrie - Jean-Luc Godard, 2oo2
Not time at all, really, but space
like you don’t know, and knowledge there
in general, finally admits
how meager a consolation
it has been all along. Once
you grow accustomed to the sprawl
and velocity your own mind
articulates (and that queasy
rocking tapers to a hum) you might
have pause to entertain a sense
of presence reaching suddenly,
and now, and deeply, ever so.
It’s a strange thought that human life is built on such quicksand, governed largely by vagaries and accidental encounters from the past, even though we take such great pride in our aesthetic sensibilities and freedom of choice. On this one point I am in complete agreement with Freud.
— Ramachandran, V.S. The Tell-Tale Brain: A Neuroscientist’s Quest for What Makes Us Human. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2011
you should love books
but I mean my books
my vision of being
simple and wide
in upstate new york
the center of colorado
or the bottom of the atlantic ocean
you are not a curse
you are a swear
I am not complicated
you are a revolution
you take too long
I am afraid of those
whose only deterrent is morality
you are sand reckoner
wolf or great attractor
I can swim
Stopped mid-motion in the middle
Of what we call our life, I looked up and saw no sky—
Only a dense cage of leaf, tree, and twig. I was lost.
It’s difficult to describe a forest:
Savage, arduous, extreme in its extremity. I think
And the facts come back, then the fear comes back.
Death, I believe, can only be slightly more bitter.
I can’t address the good I found there
Until I describe in detail what else I saw.