The Way It Is

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.

William Stafford

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope

For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,

For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith

But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.

Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:

So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing

FLY BACK TO ME
SPRING FLOWER
AND I SHALL TIE
A STRING TO YOU
LIKE THIS BUTTERFLY

The More Loving One

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total darkness sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

W.H Auden

This Morning

This morning was something. A little snow

lay on the ground. The sun floated in a clear

blue sky. The sea was blue, and blue-green,

as far as the eye could see.

Scarcely a ripple. Calm. I dressed and went

for a walk — determined not to return

until I took in what Nature had to offer.

I passed close to some old, bent-over trees.

Crossed a field strewn with rocks

where snow had drifted. Kept going

until I reached the bluff.

Where I gazed at the sea, and the sky, and

the gulls wheeling over the white beach

far below. All lovely. All bathed in a pure

cold light. But, as usual, my thoughts

began to wander. I had to will

myself to see what I was seeing

and nothing else. I had to tell myself this is what

mattered, not the other. (And I did see it,

for a minute or two!) For a minute or two

it crowded out the usual musings on

what was right, and what was wrong — duty,

tender memories, thoughts of death, how I should treat

with my former wife. All the things

I hoped would go away this morning.

The stuff I live with every day. What

I’ve trampled on in order to stay alive.

But for a minute or two I did forget

myself and everything else. I know I did.

For when I turned back i didn’t know

where I was. Until some birds rose up

from the gnarled trees. And flew

in the direction I needed to be going.

Raymond Carver

"You haven't a clue who I am"

#killingeve

This show reminds me of le femme nikita
I am loving it :)

"Her eyes are sort of catlike. Wide, but alert. Her lips are full, she has a long neck, high cheekbones. Skin is smooth and bright. She had a lost look in her eye that was both direct and also chilling. She's totally focused yet almost entirely inaccessible."

"Sometimes it takes a long time to learn how to play like yourself." -Miles Davis