Saturday, November 20, 2010

to that which is endless as it was beginningless


I hold onto fragments of this poem, read it like a prayer.


"...we must not stop here,
However sweet these laid-up stores, however convenient this dwelling
we cannot remain here,
However shelter'd this port and however calm these waters we must
not anchor here,
However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us we are permitted
to receive it but a little while.

Listen! I will be honest with you,
I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes,
These are the days that must happen to you:
You shall not heap up what is call'd riches,
You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve,
You but arrive at the city to which you were destin'd, you hardly
settle yourself to satisfaction before you are call'd by an
irresistible call to depart,
You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those
who remain behind you,
What beckonings of love you receive you shall only answer with
passionate kisses of parting,
You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach'd hands
toward you. "

~Walt Whitman


I want to let go of things, of what is safe and stifling. I want to know what it is to be a living, breathing person and not fragments shut up within themselves, in hiding. I want to not depend on, but just Be. I want to know that I'm okay, that this pain is okay and will end.

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