October 2009
1 post
my love with alarming splendour….
May 2009
15 posts
on the verge of suspension are cold seas, unmoved by the spectacle, bubbles of birth; the dust is daisy-chained to send vibrations to waiting beliefs. the source of the lips and skin; wrinkles of the face plead to erupt in life.
a gentle Trinity in pensions, and love once more in the forefront of this affair - i love the bells and lights onece more with your breathing; it is my role. you are the moon, and i am driven to madness.
you are the truth about anyone, under unsung screams still on the edge of an atom. bursting at the folds with the body, the smell of life in what is believed to silence, in what could be grace. the clarity in despair is suspended, i with you on the edges of space.
i will trace our bed in silence, you will fill in the rest of the light… hands trembling to pray, bright and golden scatters a layer of reference as well as sounds in the halcyon sharpness. even the bells and electric lights tremble when breathing such love.
oh, to vanish like a trackless cloud! it is never possible to take note of all the circumstances which influence the mood of the moment, hence it is false to say that yesterday i felt resolute and now am in despair. it isn’t possible to breathe necessity exclusively because that would utterly suffocate a person’s soul - it happens that one desires to inflluence oneself, and as far...
nothing happens while one lives, language is only for ordinary emotions. extreme emotions are lost in the attmpt to reveal them; the beauty of the world is the mouth of a labyrinth. only sight is decieved, sometimes hearing - but when i seek to touch, the vision vanishes. despair is intensified in relation to the consciousness of oneself. it is enough for the nerves to be shattered, they are no...
there must be a Providence, a God is not enough; he must see you. This still is not sufficient; he must love. I would become virtuous, sublime - only a very few need know it, but i want God at least to remain, the last refuge after everything else has failed. this is the watch by night, let us all accept new strength and real tenderness. at dawn, armed with glowing patience, we will enter the...
everything is drowsing, but with tense awareness, as if in another moment all objects would shake off their slumber and life their voices in a choir of inutterably sweet harmony. their song would speak of the mysteries of life, would explain them to the mind, extinguish the mind like a phantom flame and whisk the soul up into the blue spaces of the night. the delicate tracery of the stars sings...
to awaken on a morning full of yellowish light; to force your way through the half-shut window and, before you fall, to hover - arms extended, belly arched, legs curved backwards, like the figures on the bows of ships in old times. we must do nothing more than we are irresistably impelled to do, not even in the way of goodness. one breath dispels the limits of the hearth, then the waters of the...
it is easy to make the error of unfolding future sufferings so far in front of one that one’s eye must pass beyond them and never again return, while in reality one will stand, both today and later, with a real body, a real head for smiting with one’s hand. from this instant, nothing is serious in mortality, all is but toys, renown and grace live again; through joy, the beauty of the...
but if every fibre in me is a flame, and if my dream consumes me… ..the greatest suffering, so long that it does not cause the soul to faint, does not touch the aquiescent part of the soul. it is only necessary to know that love is a direction and not a state of being.
i drift on a river i cannot control, no longer guided by the ropes from the shore. it is so difficult for an outsider to understand that you experience a story within yourself from its beginning, from the distant point up to the approaching locomotives and steam. even now, you do not abandon it, you are pursued by it and run before it of your own voilition, wherever it may thrust, wherever you may...
a naked man, a complete stranger to me, just now stopped at my door and asked me in a deliberate and friendly way whether i lived here in my house, something there couldn’t be muc doubt about, after all. the definite outline of the human form is unbearable; the toothless mouth of the grandfather laughing at his grandchild. the person who gets lost in possibility soars high with the boldness...
do believe how truly grateful i am.