What all has water washed away?
Only the water knows —
Even in crises felt every day
the water simply flows:
While tyrants may rise
then crumble and fall
the water is wise
and washes tears away from us all
For ages I’ve laid waste to the lands all around
and built up battlements high
But just outside the great fortress around me
a little lantern stands hard by
Through a breach in the bristling bastion’s walls
I can see her sending me light
Could it be that letting her lightness in
is the truer expression of might?
Through the haze and fog of gloom
I glimpse brighter times just up ahead
but how to choose to change my doom
and walk towards the light instead?
From the darkest hounds to break free
is the mighty task that faces me
This poem by W.S. Merwin reminded me that every single day starts a new year.
Excerpt from "To the New Year" by W.S. Merwin
so this is the sound of you
here and now whether or not
anyone hears it this is
where we have come with our age
our knowledge such as it is
and our hopes such as they are
invisible before us
untouched and still possible
The sun sets
and stars arise
and I hear the willows’ whisper
The waves chime in
with the winds’ violin
that turns branches into strings
The sky’s embers
turn to ash
of winter’s chilly pall
A painted scene, calm, serene,
a picture to enthrall
The night moves —
iron wheels turn in grooves
and evening stars start their climb
as restless people pressed for time
ride the rails to who knows where:
Make haste to find what fate lays bare
"We examine each day before us with barely a glance and say, no, this isn’t one I’ve been looking for, and wait in a bored sort of way for the next, when we are convinced, our lives will start for real."
Lass Segen auf Dich kommen
im Mondschein,
der durch unsere Fenster fließt,
in den Sternen,
die am Himmelszelt funkeln,
im Nachtwind,
der durch die Bäume flüstert,
in der Feuersglut Deines Herzens, die Dich vor jeder Kälte schützt
Some may see a stone park bench
But I see a stone altar
hallowed by leaves a-falling —
The sacrament of autumn
handed down
by the wise old trees
who raise their boughs
as priestly arms
They bow in peaceful prayer
as we the faithful
take the colorful communion
and heal
🍂🍁🍃
And as the light slid into dark
I walked beside the fences there
They keep out those who are unwanted
but cannot hold back nature’s fair
of beauty, calm, and abandon —
for that is there for all to share
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