From the bottom

Tags

“I became quieter and more attentive; more receptive maybe. I no longer believe, if I have ever believed it, in assertions, affirmative or peremptory style, in setting and program speeches. What’s important comes from bottom, from silence, from a kind of passivity. Which doesn’t mean: slowly; no, actually sometimes it means: abruptly, suddenly, but always from the bottom, like a different voice and together always clear, clear (…) I’ve learned to live the discontinuous, not demanding security passages where there is no one or at least where I don’t know anyone. :Endure the anguish. Endure loneliness. (…) I am deviated by a more urgent, cooler interest. Even if afterwards, I can see that deep down I have moved on in the groove of a line present from long time ago.” Elvio Fachinelli

Great fire

Tags

, ,

“Someone has a great fire in his soul and nobody ever comes to warm themselves at it, and passers-by see nothing but a little smoke at the top of the chimney and then go on their way. So what to do, revive this inner fire, have salt in oneself, wait patiently yet with how much impatience -, wait for the moment when, I tell myself, someone will come to sit in front of this fire, and maybe it will stop .” Vincent Van Gogh

Hidden bosom

Tags

What you can’t say out loud because it’s too true, you don’t use to tell the great truths by speaking. The truth of what happens in the hidden bosom of time is the silence of lives, and that cannot be said. There are things you can’t say , and it’s unquestionable. But it’s exactly what you can’t say that you should sing.

Astral

Tags

,

2020-10-07 at 4:12 am

What do you want me to ask.
Leave me in my dark. Just this one.
Let me see.
Giorgio Caproni, Instance of the same

If sleep is truce, as it is sometimes said, a pure time for the mind to rest and heal, why, when they suddenly wake you, do you feel that they have stolen everything you had? Why is it so sad to be awake at dawn? It strips us of a gift so strange, so deep, it can be remembered only in half-sleep, moments of drowsiness that gild and adorn. The waking mind with dreams, which may well be but broken images of the night’s treasure, a timeless world that has no name or measure and breaks up in the mirrors of the day. Who will you be tonight, in the dark thrall of sleep, when you have slipped across its wall? Jorge Luis Borges

Organic nights

Tags

,

You are crossing my organic nights
Your love for clarity and our bodies
sweeping uncertain bitumen with
our unfinished shadows
Every morning we breathe the fresh air
We lie our faces upon the soft pillow
The richness of Your beauty is all I see
Every drop of rain is our desire upon our outstretched hands
Each hole is road round open
Each house is beehive
and the fruit upon our lips are the more mature
Our silences deliver the heart like rain, frost, the sun, make clay clay
Our inner duration will never stifle bird songs

Autumn Sonata

Tags

Golden doves Rest on your cheeks.
But your heart is a whirling wind And your blood like my blood rustles
Sweetly By the raspberry bushes.
My thoughts run rings around you, Just ask the night –
No-one can play As I do with your hands,
Build castles as I do With golden fingers,
Fortresses with high towers: Then we play at robbers on the beach.
Splendour fills my being When you arrive.
And when you press me close to you I can see your heart starring.
Your entrails Are scintillating lizards.
You are of a gold, a gold so deep That all lips hold their breath.

Else Lasker-Schüler

Kippur 5781-א

Tags

A smell from which all memory constructs itself.

כְּתַפּ֨וּחַ֙ בַּֽעֲצֵ֣י הַיַּ֔עַר כֵּ֥ן דּוֹדִ֖י בֵּ֣ין הַבָּנִ֑ים בְּצִלּוֹ֙ חִמַּ֣דְתִּי וְיָשַׁ֔בְתִּי וּפִרְי֖וֹ מָת֥וֹק לְחִכִּֽי