Sunday, July 19, 2020

whenever you think or you believe or you know, you’re a lot of other people: but the moment you feel, you’re nobody-but-yourself. —e.e. cummings


Live purely.
Be quiet.
Do your work with mastery.
Like the moon,
Come out from behind the cloud.



See how the past is not finished
here in the present
it is awake the whole time
never waiting
it is my hand now but not what I held
it is not my hand but what I held
it is what I remember
but it never seems quite the same
no one else remembers it
a house long gone into air
the flutter of tires over a brick road
cool light in a vanished bedroom
the flash of the oriole
between one life and another
the river a child watched

—W. S. Merwin
my hand


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