Sunday, June 20, 2010

To the Choirmaster

The rock lives in the desert, solid, taking its time.
The wave lives for an instant, stable in momentum
at the edge of the sea, before it folds away.
Everything that is, lives and has size.
The mole sleeps in a hole of its making,
and the hole also lives; absence is not nothing.
It didn’t desire to be, but now it breathes
and makes a place, for the comfort of the mole.
I am a space taken, and my absence will be shapely
and of a certain age, in the everlasting.
In the fierce evening, on the mild day,
How long shall I be shaken?

-(Habakkuk)

by Paul Hoover
from Poetry Magazine,
June 2010

2 comments:

Kay said...

how long, indeed! fabulous thought process here...

wont remember the poem off the top of my head, but space is a void that is constantly filled with more space...is the essence.

great reminder!

Yayaver said...

Kay,thanks for coming and apprecialting a touching poem. This poem gives vague feeling of self realization. The void that has neither start and nor end is my whole essence of existence. I am present at this time and space in this vast vast universe... No proof or logic is needed. Only ours experince is enough for our existence.

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