“It is the holy art of: “It is the holy art of staying soft
when the air is stiff with tension,
of whispering calm when the storm is not yours,
but rages through the person you adore.”
That stanza is a poem in itself and so flaring with the actual experience of love, not just the pretty concept, that it seems emblazoned, instinctively, on our true self, our inner being. That is greatness.
How deftly you cut through all the fluff, the cliches, the fantasies and tropes and got right to it. You gave an impeccable, heart-clutching example of love—the rock-solid, imperfect, ultimately perfect, kind—and expressed it with indisputable clarity.
Soon every ephemeral, counterfeit kind of affection seems like fading smoke next to a connection on the soul level you described when we are “met in the stillness/ and held as if we were light”.
Sublime truth.
Part homage to Cavafy, part: Part homage to Cavafy, part celebration of Love that dances to whatever music fills its heart and part tribute to precious spirits with a talent for freedom.
The prudes can just find something else to do with their time.
It's always good when a:
It's always good when a reading has caught the paradox.
The poem points us toward silence as meaning,
but it takes words to open that door.
That tension where needing language to notice
what lies beyond language bounces off Zen and Buddhist thought.
Your reflection shows the poem did its work: it made the silence audible.
What you said about needing words to hear the silence captures the paradox beautifully.
That’s exactly the space I hoped the poem would open up.
That image of being “the:
That image of being “the body burned to heat the hearth” is definitely unsettling, but it actually gets at something real: joy isn’t free.
Harvest joy always costs something like grain has to be threshed, grapes crushed, wood consumed so that bread, wine, and warmth can exist.
The fire in Rejoicing isn’t about destruction but about transformation: what’s given up becomes light, heat, and song for everyone gathered.
It’s a reminder that celebration is born out of offering, and that what feels spent can return as shared gladness.
Wow!! This full edition is: Wow!! This full edition is incredible as tattered virgin ware stockings, ha! You really ravaged that bitch, place your bets, under the honeymoon's half-light!