Journey: photos

boast of quiteness

Writings of light assault the darkness,
more prodigious than meteors.
The tall unknowable city takes
over the countryside.

Sure of my life and my death,
I observe the ambitious and would
like to understand them.

Their day is greedy as a lariat
in the air.
Their night is a rest from the rage
within steel, quick to attack.
They speak of humanity.
My humanity is in feeling
we are all voices of the same poverty.

They speak of homeland.
My homeland is the rhythm of a guitar,
a few portarits, an old sword,
the willow grove's visible prayer
as evening falls.

Time is living me.
More silent than my shadow,I pass
through the loftily covetous multitude.
They are indispensable, singular,
worthy of tomorrow.

My name is someone and anyone.

I walk slowly, like one who comes
from so far away he doesn't expect to arrive....

by Jorge Luis Borges

Journey

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Tuesday, January 1, 2013

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