"

Yearning for permanence, and who wouldn’t?
Longing to believe it will last forever,
But what does? Nothing I know of.

Even the things that seem to stand still
Flow slowly into other forms.

The beloved’s first and only lesson:
Everything that is, becomes.

"
– Gregory Orr, “Yearning for permanence, and who wouldn’t?”
"There is here no measuring with time, no year matters, and ten years are nothing. Being an artist means, not reckoning and counting, but ripening like the tree that does not force its sap and stands confident in the storms of spring without fear that after them may come no summer. It does come. But it comes only to the patient, who are there as though eternity lay before them, so unconcernedly still and wide. I learn it daily, learn it with pain to which I am grateful: patience is everything!"
– Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet, trans. M. D. Herter Norton
"It’s true, I think, as Kenko says in his Idleness,
That all beauty depends upon disappearance,
The bitten edges of things,
the gradual sliding away
Into tissue and memory,
the uncertainty
And dazzling impermanence of days we beg our meanings from,
And their frayed loveliness."
– Charles Wright, from “Lonesome Pine Special”
"Moments: beware the poetry of moments. Many of those moments are literary, remember. They have a past, a dreary past."
Theodore Roethke, from “The Poet’s Business,” On Poetry & Craft (Copper Canyon Press, 2001)

(Source: memoryslandscape)

memoryslandscape:

The clouds do not bother us
when we look for heaven. Always

we find a faint, veiled outline
like the ship on the horizon,

a dark memory
on the edge. The sea moves in waves,

garbling the language.
We’ve been a great distance

and the darkness has rolled back
enough to be honest.

Russell Evatt, opening lines to “[The clouds do not bother us],” burntdistrict (vol. 2, no. 1, Winter 2013)