Aiwaz! Confirm my troth with thee ! my will inspire
With secret sperm of subtle, free, creating Fire!
Mould thou my very flesh as Thine, renew my birth
In childhood merry as divine, enchenated earth!
Dissolve my rapture in Thine own, a sacred slaugther
Whereby to capture and atone the soul of water!
Fill thou my mind with gleaming Thought intense and rare
To One refined, outflung to naught, the Word of Air!
Most, bridal bound, my quintessentil Form thus freeing
From self, be found one Selfhood blent in Spirit Being.
Watch out for power, for its avalanche can bury you, snow, snow, snow, smothering your mountain. Watch out for hate, it can open its mouth and you’ll fling yourself out to eat off your leg, an instant leper. Watch out for friends, because when you betray them, as you will, they will bury their heads in the toilet and flush themselves away. Watch out for intellect, because it knows so much it knows nothing and leaves you hanging upside down, mouthing knowledge as your heart falls out of your mouth. Watch out for games, the actor’s part, the speech planned, known, given, for they will give you away and you will stand like a naked little boy, pissing on your own child-bed.
Watch out for love (unless it is true, and every part of you says yes including the toes), it will wrap you up like a mummy, and your scream won’t be heard and none of your running will end.
Love? Be it man. Be it woman. It must be a wave you want to glide in on, give your body to it, give your laugh to it, give, when the gravelly sand takes you, your tears to the land. To love another is something like prayer and can’t be planned, you just fall into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.
Special person, if I were you I’d pay no attention to admonitions from me, made somewhat out of your words and somewhat out of mine. A collaboration. I do not believe a word I have said, except some, except I think of you like a young tree with pasted-on leaves and know you’ll root and the real green thing will come.
Let go. Let go. Oh special person, possible leaves, this typewriter likes you on the way to them, but wants to break crystal glasses in celebration, for you, when the dark crust is thrown off and you float all around like a happened balloon.
“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.” from “Jane Eyre” by Charlotte Bronte — British Novelist born on April 21, 1816, died on March 31, 1855
Frederick Carl Frieseke (1874-1939) ~ The Birdcage, ca. 1910,
“The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.”Triune, shaping, restless power,
Life-flow from life’s natal hour,
No music chords are in thy sound;
By some thou’rt but a rattle found;
Yet, without thy ceaseless motion,
To ice would turn their dead devotion
Life-flow of my natal hour,
I will not weary of thy power,
Till in the changes of thy sound
A chord’s three parts distinct are found
I will faithful move with thee,
God-ordered, self-fed energy,
Nature in eternity
My family slept those level miles
but like a bell rung deep till dawn
I drove down an aisle of sound,
nothing real but in the bell,
past the town where I was born.
Once you cross a land like that
you own your face more: what the light
struck told a self; every rock
denied all the rest of the world.
We stopped at Sharon Springs and ate–
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