To gaze at the river of time and water
And recall that time itself is another river,
To know we cease to be, just like the river,
And that our faces pass away, just like the water.
To feel that waking is another sleep
That dreams it does not sleep and that death,
Which our flesh dreads is that very death
Of every night, which we call sleep.
To see in the day or in the year a symbol
Of mankind’s days and of his years,
To transform the outrage of the years
Into a music, a rumor and a symbol,
To see in death a sleep, and in the sunset
A sad gold, of such is Poetry
Immortal and a pauper. For Poetry
Returns like the dawn and the sunset.
At times in the afternoon a face
Looks at us from the depths of a mirror;
Art must be like that mirror
That reveals to us this face of ours.
They tell how Ulysses, glutted with wonders,
Wept with love to descry his Ithaca
Humble and green. Art is that Ithaca
Of green eternity, not of wonders.
It is also like the endless river
That passes and remains, a mirror for one same
Inconstant Heraclitus, who is the same
And another, like an endless river.
(Jorge Luis Borges, in Ars Poetica)
Wavahh, says the wind
whispering Wavahh
the web on both sides,
visible only from the bed
from which I awakened,
not from the other side,
the woods,
yet it undulates
in waves along with
this wind, Wavahh...
On both sides though
I cannot now see it
in the woods
it is not there
Wavahh...
Dancing through woods wind curvature of air spiraling spiriting around
through leaves beckoning onward sniff sniff Wavahh dancing shaft/shift
of sunlight leaves oak maple dancing dangling ants where are you branch
crackling my fur by stream streaming wrinkling water winding wind Wavahh
dancing over there here fish flopping ARRR swishing umm slipping
silvering splashing boulder dancing resting here snaff ARRR Wavahh
web waking window slithering is that a snake spider where are you spider
To gaze at the river of time and water
And recall that time itself is another river,
To know we cease to be, just like the river,
And that our faces pass away, just like the water.
We are walking the path of this our dream world into the heart of earth.
Earth’s heart is our heart. We are listening to the earth breathing as
we breathe. Our inhalations and exhalations are one breath. We are walking
the path of dreaming into the heart of the earth. Into the heart of earth’s
dream. She is spinning our dream into music. We are breathing earth’s breath.
Inhalation
and exhalation. Breathing in and breathing out. Earth’s heart beats.
Our hearts beat. We are walking the path of the dream of the earth.