The birthday shines, when logs not burn, but men…

“So may you live in honour, as in name,
If with this truth you be inspired;
So may
This day
Be more and long desired;
And with the flame
Of love be bright,
As with the light
Of bonfires! then
The birthday shines, when logs not burn, but men.”
- Ode to Sir William Sidney on His Birthday, Ben Johnson -
sublime

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firmamentum…

“When the Sky was separated from the Earth
— Firmly held together up to then —
And when the goddess mothers appeared.”
[Sumerian & Akkadian creation story]

For on the birthday, the horizon opens & yields to the sky.

And so a birthday week to share with all birthdays this week….
firmamentum

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The Angel of Innocence Equals….

the angle of Reflection

angleofincidence

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Weep No More Fair Rockport Willow….

Your roots
Secure
History …

homagelagray

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A Remembrance of Wings

Re-call Below the Keystone Bridge

Here where the ice melts
Down to snow &
Covers the primitive earth,
Feathers form.
Angels member wings,
They hover,
We inform their distance from us,
Circle & inscribe their flight
By the words, cherub, butterfly, bee.

angel_remembrance_wings

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The Heart is a Slow Carriage for the Soul….

One day I found my way, waist deep in snow, somewhere in the Great Marsh of Ipswich.
There I chanced upon this scene… and the snow so moved so slow….

snowcarriage

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Our winter-suffering foliage, our dark evergreen,,,

“Some day, in the emergence from this fierce insight, 
let me sing jubilation and praise to assenting Angels. 
Let not a single one of the cleanly-struck hammers of my heart 
deny me, through a slack, or a doubtful, or 
a broken string. Let my streaming face 
make me more radiant: let my secret weeping 
bear flower. O, how dear you will be to me, then, Nights 
of anguish. Inconsolable sisters, why did I not 
kneel more to greet you, lose myself more 
in your loosened hair? We, squanderers of pain. 
How we gaze beyond them into duration’s sadness, 
to see if they have an end. Though they are nothing but 
our winter-suffering foliage, our dark evergreen, 
one of the seasons of our inner year – not only 
season – : but place, settlement, camp, soil, dwelling.”
Rilke, The Duino Elegies, The Tenth Elegy
angeldictation
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