LighthouseSolitude
“When from our better selves we have too long
Been parted by the hurrying world, and droop,
Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired,
How gracious, how benign, is Solitude.” (Wordsworth)
Outside the Window
I look through the window,
on a train across a greenish yellow field.
And it’s overcast,
my skin feels no warmth of the sun.
But there’s sunshine,
in the reflection in my eyes.
Nobody knows how lovely it is,
and that I see winter coming too.
Problem in a Math Book
PROBLEM IN A MATH BOOK
Yehuda Amichai
I remember a problem in a math book
about a train that leaves from place A and another train
that leaves from place B. When will they meet?
And no one ever asked what happens when they meet:
will they stop, or pass each other, or collide?
And none of the problems was about a man who leaves from place A
and a woman who leaves from place B.
Death and Life
A part of me is dying
– it has to die.
The rest of me struggles
for I feel incomplete.
I know exactly where life goes
because I’ve been there.
But it’s not a bad place to go,
you burn yourself along the way.
Just don’t go too far, make sure
you still have the strength to come back.
Sow seeds in ashes along the way,
cultivate life and rejuvenate yourself.
Uniqueness
There is nothing unique about uniqueness.
There is nothing ordinary about ordinariness.
Why am I so unique? I could give you a number of reasons, but the simple truth is that I am who I am. Everyone is unique in a way, I just early figured that it’s okay to be me.
This is perhaps the most arrogant and humble way to put it.