Poem du jour
After Love
by Jack Gilbert
from New Yorker
He is watching the music with his eyes closed.
Hearing the piano like a man moving
through the woods thinking by feeling.
The orchestra up in the trees, the heart below,
step by step. The music hurrying sometimes,
but always returning to quiet, like the man
remembering and hoping. It is a thing in us,
mostly unnoticed. There is somehow a pleasure
in the loss. In the yearning. The pain
going this way and that. Never again.
Never bodied again. Again the never.
Slowly. No undergrowth. Almost leaving.
A humming beauty in the silence.
The having been. Having had. And the man
knowing all of him will come to the end.
Later Posts/Вперёд
A strange thing - love. It can turn your life into heaven or hell. The worst thing is when you can't live with or without the person you love and yet you have to go on living. The only solution is to keep at a safe distance - your only chance to survive :)
ReplyDeletevery true, if survival is the goal. But if the goal is to love and be loved, then why avoid the flame of love? Why waste life without love? Rather burn intensely than simmer tepidly...
ReplyDeleteI'd rather have a year of love than a decade of safe distance. Oh, wait, I had that, the third-degree burns are still healing
On a less serious note, the same can be said about drugs or alcohol...
If others depend on you - you have to survive. Unless you are so egotistic that you don't care. But I agree with you - rather burn intensely than simmer tepidly ... (what would be a balm on your third-degree burns - I'd be happy to oblige :))
ReplyDeleteno balm needed - this is not about healing. I'd rather get burned again and again by the same old flame :) Balms are for whinies.
ReplyDeleteYou're my hero! And you're not a whiny, that's for sure! Let's burn, even if not together ;)
ReplyDelete