Orpheus and Eurydice
We know nothing of this going.
It excludes us. Faced with death,
what cause have we to respond
with the fear and grief or even hatred
that twist the features to a mask of tragedy?
On this side of death we play roles.
So long as we seek to please the audience,
death, who needs no approval, plays us.
New Poems
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"Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night."
~ Rainer Maria Rilke
Go ahead, bloom recklessly!