Ms. Le Guennec said the box of Picassos had sat in the garage of her home for 30 years.
We are the time. We are the famous
metaphor from Heraclitus the Obscure.
We are the water, not the hard diamond,
the one that is lost, not the one that stands still.
We are the river and we are that greek
that looks himself into the river. His reflection
changes into the waters of the changing mirror,
into the crystal that changes like the fire.
We are the vain predetermined river,
in his travel to his sea.
The shadows have surrounded him.
Everything said goodbye to us, everything goes away.
Memory does not stamp his own coin.
However, there is something that stays
however, there is something that bemoans.
~Jorge Luis Borgess
(photo from a hike: hohokam petroglyphs)
So we’re dust. In the meantime, my wife and I
make the bed. Holding opposite edges of the sheet,
we raise it, billowing, then pull it tight,
measuring by eye as it falls into alignment
between us. We tug, fold, tuck. And if I’m lucky,
she’ll remember a recent dream and tell me.
One day we’ll lie down and not get up.
One day, all we guard will be surrendered.
Until then, we’ll go on learning to recognize
what we love, and what it takes
to tend what isn’t for our having.
So often, fear has led me
to abandon what I know I must relinquish
in time. But for the moment,
I’ll listen to her dream
and she to mine, our mutual hearing calling
more and more detail into the light
of a joint and fragile keeping.
– Li-Young Lee
(photo from the personal archives during a roadtrip from phoenix to los angeles)
Wolves are also noted for their peculiar habit of adopting and nursing human infants with remarkable destinies ahead of them. How a wolf can sense which infant is a child of destiny is still imperfectly understood; but it is known that wolves possess an olfactory sense far keener than our own, and it may be that certain human children simply smell like destiny.
(passage via my-ear-trumpet)
(photo via mociun)
At midnight in the museum hall
The fossils gathered for a ball
There were no drums or saxophones,
But just the clatter of their bones,
A rolling, rattling, carefree circus
Of mammoth polkas and mazurkas.
Pterodactyls and brontosauruses
Sang ghostly prehistoric choruses.
Amid the mastodontic wassail
I caught the eye of one small fossil.
“Cheer up, sad world,” he said, and winked-
“It’s kind of fun to be extinct.”
~ogden nash “fossils” to accompany the carnival of the animals
“The surface of the Earth is the shore of the cosmic ocean.
From it we have learned most of what we know. Recently, we have waded a little out to sea, enough to dampen our toes or, at most, wet our ankles. The water seems inviting.
The ocean calls.
~ carl sagan