“Count up the almonds,
Count what was bitter and kept you waking,
Count me in too:
I sought your eye when you glanced up and no one would see you,
I spun that secret thread
Where the dew you mused on
Slid down to pitchers
Tended by a word that reached no one’s heart.
There you first fully entered the name that is yours,
you stepped to yourself on steady feet,
the hammers swung free in the belfry of your silence,
things overheard thrust through to you,
what’s dead put it’s arm around you too,
and the three of you walked through the evening.
Render me bitter.
Number me among the almonds”
― Paul Celan
Autumn eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends.
From the nuts we shell time and we teach it to walk:
then time returns to the shell.
In the mirror it’s Sunday,
in dream there is room for sleeping,
our mouths speak the truth.
My eye moves down to the sex of my loved one:
we look at each other,
we exchange dark words,
we love each other like poppy and recollection,
we sleep like wine in the conches,
like the sea in the moon’s blood ray.
We stand by the window embracing, and people look up from the street:
it is time they knew!
It is time the stone made an effort to flower,
time unrest had a beating heart. It is time it were time.
It is time.
We have to learn how to live with our frailties. The best people I know are inadequate and unashamed.
—Stanley Kunitz (via aslovelyasatree)
If you want to build a ship, don’t assign people tasks & work, but teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.
—Antoine de Saint-Exupery (via aslovelyasatree)