Reblogged from evolve2live
Walls melting sleeping swimming submerging Phosphorescent lemon meyer paint makes me warm Delightfully pulsating borders, edges and crevices Lights and shadows making love not fucking Oozing a slurry of rhythm and wine Textures, drums, and breathing suddenly surreal And interesting, tasty, want...
“The unreal is more powerful than the real. Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it. Because its only intangible ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles. Wood rots. People, well, they die. But things as fragile as a thought, a dream, a legend, they can go on and on. If you can change the way people think. The way they see themselves. The way they see the world. You can change the way people live their lives. That’s the only lasting thing you can create.”
- Chuck Palahniuk
(via camp-granada)
“In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life, — no disgrace, no calamity (leaving me my eyes), which nature cannot repair.”
I’m awake right now because I’m tracking the lunar eclipse and waiting for stage three (i.e totality) to occur. Meanwhile, I’m drinking both Hot Chocolate and cranberry-apple juice and watching Dexter.
The last line of the episode goes, “There are no secrets in life…just hidden truths that lie beneath the surface.”
Interesting…
Tonight, someone who I hold very high said to me: take your time, make yourself as strong as you need to be, and then make your first, serious impression on the world.
Thoughts??
I am offering this poem to you,
since I have nothing else to give.
Keep it like a warm coat,
when winter comes to cover you,
or like a pair of thick socks
the cold cannot bite through,
I love you,
I have nothing else to give you,
so it is a pot full of yellow corn
to warm your belly in the winter,
it is a scarf for your head, to wear
over your hair, to tie up around your face,
I love you,
Keep it, treasure it as you would
if you were lost, needing direction,
in the wilderness life becomes when mature;
and in the corner of your drawer,
tucked away like a cabin or a hogan
in dense trees, come knocking,
and I will answer, give you directions,
and let you warm yourself by this fire,
rest by this fire, and make you feel safe,
I love you,
It’s all I have to give,
and it’s all anyone needs to live,
and to go on living inside,
when the world outside
no longer cares if you live or die;
remember,
I love you.
I woke this morning with that shadow feeling I’d been dreaming
significant dreams-
Strong and powerful,
Richly full of meaning.
But I was unable to recall them no matter how hard I tried.
Chasing them only makes it worse,
Like groping for the other tennis shoe
Lost under the bed
Just beyond my reach,
Closing my hand on something,
To discover it is only
So much dust and dog hair.
I closed my eyes,
Breathed deeply,
And reached for that familiar place.
But the Universe asked me a question.
Why do I continue to love you?
And I begin to answer immediately because
Confidence is the feeling we have before we understand the situation.
Why in the face of all we have seen,
and failed to see in each other,
Do we persevere?
I begin to understand it is a matter of pride.
And, pride is, after all,
what we have.
Vanity is what others have.
So, in pride or vanity I offer:
I love you because I have always loved you.
And the Universe knows this is not a whole truth.
It knows it like it knows we can’t pray a lie
I try again.
I love you because of all we have been through together.
And the Universe does not like this cliché any better.
It asks, with all the Aristotelian logic it can muster,
Do you not manifest “All that you have been through together?”
The Universe knows and wil not let me get away with half a truth.
We have been through “all that”
Because we have put each other through “all that.”
It asks another question:
How can you assert love after all you have seen?
The helplessness after surgeries;
The weakness in the face of adversity;
The cowardice in the face of confrontation;
Weight gain,
Hair loss,
Reduced libido,
Nakedness at forty,
Nakedness at fifty?
The knowledge that the final solution does not involve Bean-o.
And I begin, in answer, to list the qualities I admire in you:
Tolerance,
Patience,
Trust,
Faithfulness,
Forgiveness.
But the Universe will not allow this equivocation either.
And because the Universe is a big believer in the Socratic Method,
it asks
Why do I love my dog?
I confess to perceiving a similiar list.
The Universe sends me the spring songbirds early,
Who sing, and feed,
who show me community in bright colors
And high energy.
The birds know nothing of our sorrow.
And the Universe asks again,
In the face of this sorrow, why do I continue to love you?
It is not because Mothers are better than Fathers.
It is not because women are better than men.
It is not because teaching is better than poetry.
It is not because daughters are better than husbands.
And slowly, the answer,
Or rather the understanding that there is no answer,
Begins to reveal itself to me.
There is no aetiology for love.
I do not love you because
I do not love you in spite of
I do not love you since
I do not love you in so much as
I do not love you for the reason that
There is nor eason,
No logic,
No syllogistic proof.
It simply is.
I love you.
It comes about without cause
And with luck it is returned
without cause.
That is why love fits more aptly into poetry than paint.
It is not revealed to the mind through the eye.
It comes to the heart, through th enose and the fingertips.
The old poet had it right.
“Do not go gentle…”
Even here in this moment of doubt
I don’t give up.
I do not go gentle,
Down by two in the bottom of the 9th,
Two out,
Two on,
Two strikes.
I will take one more god damned pitch!
And even if I fail,
We will play again tomorrow.
The story of my life is told between parentheses
whcih you open and you close.
And inside those parentheses is one word.
It is (Hope).
—Steven Marsh
