But still, still…
………In stillness mystery calls,
though calling no one, being simply there,
somewhere I cannot tell, singing, not near,
not far, but song always, an ayre that falls
on my silence as if heard in the long halls
of eternity, of existence, this that I hear
in the incomprehensibility we share
and cannot speak, a touch, a glance that forestalls
the foreignness we felt before we came
into our knowing one another, yet no touch
nor glance in fact, nothing definable, no name
in materiality, only this singing, such
that together silently we hear and we belong
……always this sonetto, this little song…
–from Sonnets, No. 63; Hayden Carruth
With thanks to Five Branch Tree.
My brain is only a receiver, in the Universe there is a core from which we obtain knowledge, strength and inspiration. I have not penetrated into the secrets of this core, but I know that it exists.
Photograph: Mark Twain (penname of Samuel Langhorne Clemens) in the lab of Nikola Tesla, spring of 1894.
From the book Living Architecture: India published in 1969 by Andreas Volwahsen. (via: Things I See)
From the book Living Architecture: India published in 1969 by Andreas Volwahsen. (via: The Things I See)
There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.