I looked into the mirror and found that the dust of time has softened the edges of old pains and blended the colors of old joys; as though every footstep were muffled somehow, walking through snow toward night, walking in the dust of an extinct volcano toward a summit. Everything had become quieter, from the …
With even a few years, the act of creation begins to blend itself with the feeling of loss, as the cycle of seasons turns round and round. Some traditions have seen the wheel as pain, where what is given is taken away, and what is made crumbles. It is perhaps the habit of all living …
A moment arrives and a moment passes, water through your fingers. Beautiful water: touch a drop to your lips, your thirst is lessened; touch a drop to your eyes, they are cleared; touch a drop to your forehead, you are baptized; touch a drop to the soil, the flower grows. From the electric arc of …
There is one line you cannot trace with your finger, and which you cannot follow with your eye. A melody, with words, describes the heart. And as the thread of notes is drawn out from the lips, drawn out like the finest line of silk, it is taken by the wind, it coils around a …
The body blossoms, loves, then gradually decays: the memory of beauty more painful perhaps than the reality of age.
I built my house with the sun there were four walls against snakes empty windows to admit the breeze no roof so the stars would visit me The sky grew cloudy and rains came one night I slept in water then reluctant raised a roof this is how I lost the stars The winds descended …
A winter storm has covered our earth with snow, like the sands of a beach, but deposited by waves of wind; now the air temperature rises and sleet makes a slick glaze overall; now the sun is left behind as we spin toward the east, — whatever East is: we spin in the direction of …
…atrás dos corpos e das mentes que nós vestimos, para ter algo tangível que podemos tocar… We spend so much time tied up within our thoughts and our bodies, we think This is It, I am here to avoid as much discomfort as I can, here to do what this skin tells me to do, …
The beauty of other languages is that you can see… beyond the walls your own grammar has constructed. The mind finds easy passage in some avenues, where in English, say, or German or some other tongue, it had been constricted. Why consider the Earth an anarchy, a Babel? Were it not for the incomprehensible complexity …
A word from the wind at the window pane the winter’s come to stay awhile the heart longs for heaven the heart looks for sun but this song is sung alone That’s all right there’s a sad kind of sweetness in a song or a sweet kind of sadness that carries you along from the …
We tell ourselves that what we experience in a moment's time, also passes in a moment's time. We step out into the street, for example, and while crossing a car ignores the red light, and you are nearly hit: whew! That was close. And now it is history. That is a mistaken impression, however. We …
When the eyes are open, all of Creation is reduced to surfaces… imagine the poverty in a world of surfaces. As though all that an ocean offered us was its waves! As soon as the eyes open, the interiors begin to close, the interiors of everything that sight obscures from us, the interior of our …