(Finished text.)
I hold no passions.
It’s just this unnatural feeling of peace—
Blank, perhaps empty. Strange, strange indeed—
Not mistaken. Maybe blind, or maybe
Going beyond the nature of things—
Everyday things or never imagined—
Left way behind
With their shadows—
In this unnatural feeling of peace—
I hold no passions.
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3 comentarios:
Its so easy to take passions, the hardest part is to hold them!
I remember the moment you read this one to me and other mute and unready people. Mute, for saying anything about it is almost imposible, unready, because it is so so great, than no one can be prepared to receive it in its complete dimension... Brilliant Helena, and I mean it.
Helena: I have chosen this post of yours for my first comment beacuse I do not understand it..
It is not that I dislike it or reject it on a literary sense; but rather I do not understand the feeling expressed.
I understand holding passions, so unique and diverse no names have yet been invented for them (like Spinoza proposed). I understand never letting go of a passion, or a passion fleeing from us within the blink of our eyes. However, I do not understand the abscense of passions. It is indeed, a concept so harsh to my poor ideals that, like Yeat's rock in the water, starts a change within me.
Visita pronto mi blogg ingrata!!
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