A Saddle On Every Particle of Space
Most are still a leaf spinning
between heaven and earth
Try to settle on the ground
and come to know
its astounding wonder
and sing to us
from your perspective.
Put a saddle on ever particle of space
and ride
and just keep going.
Gibran spoke of space too, in a December 9, 1915 to Mary: "Thank you a thousand times for these wonderful books. They are just what I want. I have never been so interested in a subject as I am now in Astronomy. It is the proper study of man. Human beings are local and their vision is so limited that they all need Astronomy to raise them beyond their tribe, race, and country. When the collective minds of this planet become conscious of other worlds and other spheres, their local interests, which are behind all wars and all human difficulties, would be no more.
And your letters, your sweet and dear letters - when I read them, and sometimes I read them as if they were written to someone else, I feel like a plant growing in light. I forget my own shadows. When one works from the heart, one is eternal, and as you say, yesterday is a thousand years away. Do you think, Mary, that someday I shall be like the man to whom these letters are written? I want to, with all my heart and soul."
Most are still a leaf spinning
between heaven and earth
Try to settle on the ground
and come to know
its astounding wonder
and sing to us
from your perspective.
Put a saddle on ever particle of space
and ride
and just keep going.
Gibran spoke of space too, in a December 9, 1915 to Mary: "Thank you a thousand times for these wonderful books. They are just what I want. I have never been so interested in a subject as I am now in Astronomy. It is the proper study of man. Human beings are local and their vision is so limited that they all need Astronomy to raise them beyond their tribe, race, and country. When the collective minds of this planet become conscious of other worlds and other spheres, their local interests, which are behind all wars and all human difficulties, would be no more.
And your letters, your sweet and dear letters - when I read them, and sometimes I read them as if they were written to someone else, I feel like a plant growing in light. I forget my own shadows. When one works from the heart, one is eternal, and as you say, yesterday is a thousand years away. Do you think, Mary, that someday I shall be like the man to whom these letters are written? I want to, with all my heart and soul."
The Witch's Broom by Robert Franke
No comments:
Post a Comment