My body and soul have clung to my mind as beaten and weathered armor, with dents and pockmarks and rust spots, brittle on neglected edges, repaired by my own meager hands along the road. Reading this poem is the hammer and the anvil and the white-hot forge that gives me the repairs to march another one hundred miles, the song in my heart resounded through the ranks, and raised to the air that stokes the fires for another one hundred battles.
My teeth are chattering, and I'm shivering, and my eyes are wide. When I talk about translating beauty from ethereal ghosts into words for the living, THIS is what I mean. This is what I strive for; if I can create such pure resonations that vibrate in the hearts of humans, like stones vibrate with the harmonies of the earth, I will consider myself an accomplished artist. Not one day before that.
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timeasmymeasure
goddamnit. have I mentioned that I hate to cry at work?
Date: 2003-05-16 05:41 am (UTC)My body and soul have clung to my mind as beaten and weathered armor, with dents and pockmarks and rust spots, brittle on neglected edges, repaired by my own meager hands along the road. Reading this poem is the hammer and the anvil and the white-hot forge that gives me the repairs to march another one hundred miles, the song in my heart resounded through the ranks, and raised to the air that stokes the fires for another one hundred battles.
My teeth are chattering, and I'm shivering, and my eyes are wide. When I talk about translating beauty from ethereal ghosts into words for the living, THIS is what I mean. This is what I strive for; if I can create such pure resonations that vibrate in the hearts of humans, like stones vibrate with the harmonies of the earth, I will consider myself an accomplished artist. Not one day before that.
Goddamnit. Thank you for this one.