You have not known what you are.
You have slumbered upon yourself all your life.
Your eyes have been as much as closed most of the time.
What you have done is already in mockeries.
The mockeries are not you.
Underneath them
And within them,
I see you lurk...
You have slumbered upon yourself all your life.
Your eyes have been as much as closed most of the time.
What you have done is already in mockeries.
The mockeries are not you.
Underneath them
And within them,
I see you lurk...
-Walt Whitman
7.6.17
leftover
THIS FEELING doesn't get old, does it? The feeling you get as your train pulls away from a station, from a comfortable familiar place. Only, you're not the one leaving, but a leftover washed ashore from a sudden shift of the tide, impermanence at default. Gears turn. The machine whirs. The laundry spins, as does the world, along with everything else sucked in time: all parts working to force change, always. So remind me again. Change is good and ever bittersweet. It never grows old.
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