A habit can be abandoned, and if it were the cause of a destiny, that destiny would be changed. An intention can be abandoned. A pattern can be interrupted. Clearly, in this light, any construct of predestination is impermanent and mutable, like the wind.
quinta-feira, 27 de setembro de 2007
quarta-feira, 12 de setembro de 2007
sábado, 8 de setembro de 2007
THE POET AS HUSBAND I write in a small shadowed corner in order to bear light into the world, though the light is not my own. My darkness is no darkness to you and nothing you should wish upon yourself, but my light shall also be your light, in which we shall see differently but gloriously. I am not lame inside me, no matter that I drag my foot, I have run here through all my infirmities to bring you news of a battle already won. Let my last breath speak victory into the world. The race is run and shall be run again, joyfully, and you shall run with me, the territory opened to us like returned laughter or remembered childhood. Remember, I was here, and you were here, and together we made a world.