i carry your heart with me(i carry it inThank you for this poem. It's very, very true.
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
Dedicated to my Loves
31 December 2010
Poem by e.e. cummings
One of my closest friends (I'm looking at you, M*A) who's been with our family since the founding of this blog, sent me this poem. It seems to fit and is very appropriate.
30 December 2010
1460 vs 1
Well, here it is. Almost. Tomorrow is The Day, but I'm not going to quibble.
Tomorrow will mark four years. 1460 days have passed, and still there are days where tomorrow will feel like yesterday.
I'm trying to not slip into the tailspin that so easily tempts this time of year, to step into the yawning foggy abyss. I smile to those (who don't know) who wish me a jaunty Happy New Year. And I try to not let that dreary, mournful tune of Auld Lang Syne worm its way into my head.
But, it's not an easy battle. The countdown that has been ticking and building over the past couple of months is now practically bleating in my head. It's unavoidable, no matter how much I try to avoid it.
There's something very un-Scarlett about it; tomorrow is not "another day". It's The Day.
And don't think the symbolism isn't lost upon me. New Year's Eve - out with the old, the New Year bringing "new starts", a "fresh life", etc. Meh.
There are plenty of things I don't remember... where things are, names of people if I haven't seen them at least five (or fifty) times, and so forth. But, I remember every detail, every second, of The Day.
I remember it all... from start to end. And I remember the New Year... sitting there in a quiet house, not really knowing what else to do, not able to sleep, or anything else... watching the ball drop - feeling very detached from The World.
And so it is each year - as The World celebrates and tries to decide where to party, I cannot help but feel away from it all. I cannot envisage celebrating or partying. It seems to rank as sacriligeous as chugging communal wine at a frat party.
I'm going to attempt sleep, not that I've been all that successful the last several days, but that's not new. And for anyone who's paying attention who might have some control over such things... I'd really like to skip tomorrow.
Tomorrow will mark four years. 1460 days have passed, and still there are days where tomorrow will feel like yesterday.
I'm trying to not slip into the tailspin that so easily tempts this time of year, to step into the yawning foggy abyss. I smile to those (who don't know) who wish me a jaunty Happy New Year. And I try to not let that dreary, mournful tune of Auld Lang Syne worm its way into my head.
But, it's not an easy battle. The countdown that has been ticking and building over the past couple of months is now practically bleating in my head. It's unavoidable, no matter how much I try to avoid it.
There's something very un-Scarlett about it; tomorrow is not "another day". It's The Day.
And don't think the symbolism isn't lost upon me. New Year's Eve - out with the old, the New Year bringing "new starts", a "fresh life", etc. Meh.
There are plenty of things I don't remember... where things are, names of people if I haven't seen them at least five (or fifty) times, and so forth. But, I remember every detail, every second, of The Day.
I remember it all... from start to end. And I remember the New Year... sitting there in a quiet house, not really knowing what else to do, not able to sleep, or anything else... watching the ball drop - feeling very detached from The World.
And so it is each year - as The World celebrates and tries to decide where to party, I cannot help but feel away from it all. I cannot envisage celebrating or partying. It seems to rank as sacriligeous as chugging communal wine at a frat party.
I'm going to attempt sleep, not that I've been all that successful the last several days, but that's not new. And for anyone who's paying attention who might have some control over such things... I'd really like to skip tomorrow.
24 December 2010
20 December 2010
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