Unsayable

Unsayable

Things are not nearly so comprehensible and sayable as we are generally made to believe. Most experiences are unsayable; they come to fullness in a realm that words do not inhabit. And most unsayable of all are works of art, which —alongside our transient lives— mysteriously endure.

Paris, February 17, 1903

Letters to a Young Poet

Rainer Maria Rilke

Resemblance

Resemblance

Filtering sunlight

each of us

creates shadows

of resemblance..

In this way

an en-lightened

moment

finds most urgent

self expression..

Ahh..Expression

recorded with

 permanence

can gain followers..

The resemblance

is captured

and captured again..

It is then that

unseen danger meets

 unmoving souls..

Religions arise

science thrives

 patterns entrench..

Healing comes from

new beginnings

sighting of sunlight

with elation..

Discovering of filters

authoring forms

a moving artistry 

truly adorns...

Plant care

Plant care

With two water cans

she suddenly emerged 

from a backroom..

Watering lobby plants

in a medical place..

Broad-leafed

tall and green

thriving inside

 knowing not winter cold..

She brushed and clipped

at watchers she smiled..

Viewing each plant

with quick becoming

a glancing OK..

Arrived and departed

leaving trailing glow..

Plants whispered of

brushed love 

 grace-full care...

We

We

are creating..

A partner we

create

as our creation..

The partner speaks

in return and

we are renewed..

A conversation 

is born and

 after moments

it is unclear

who it was

that spoke first..

Doorways

Doorways

Fixedness 

It seems that way..

Imprisonment often

without a notion

of each thing

or thought

as entry

as new beginning..

A fractal gift

to imagine 

those becomings.. 

 nuanced differences

coming from

our creations

this moment

and the next..

So to remember

the many doorways

we stand before...

Buddha in Glory

Buddha in Glory

Center of all centers, core of cores,

almond self-enclosed, and growing sweet--

all this universe, to the furthest stars

all beyond them, is your flesh, your fruit.

Now you feel how nothing clings to you;

your vast shell reaches into endless space,

and there the rich, thick fluids rise and flow.

Illuminated in your infinite peace,

a billion stars go spinning through the night,

blazing high above your head.

But in you is the presence that

will be, when all the stars are dead. 

Rainer Maria Rilke

Catcher

Catcher

in the Rye

where much is

phony..

All the externals

those shells

postures and lies..

The darkness

covered life force..

Dialogue suffers

the desire lost

to honor difference

then to discover

 common elevation..

Phony inside

knows phony outside

as with good..

Perspective reigns

Shades inside

shade outside..

This is pain

perhaps birthpain

a new adam

with new

composition...

Re-reading Catcher

after many years..!  :)