I live with my Love in our Denver, and I fall into the mold of the unmolded. I think the world is warming up and getting into this green way of living seems like a good reaction. I smoke my galdalf pipe, read books, drink bourbon and wine and beer, take pictures, read the bible, go to church, play Go and Scrabble, and….now things have changed and I live near tall mountains and under a big sky. Now I have to keep up with friends (who have become family) using this blog and other forms of media.
| S | M | T | W | T | F | S |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| « Sep | ||||||
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |
| 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |
| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 |
| 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 |
| 29 | 30 | |||||
Blog Stats
- 10,113 hits
Recent Comments
 | Bill Johnston on sorry about the slack |
 | ben on Thanks Kite… |
 | kite on I am going to start agian… |
 | Amanda on I am going to start agian… |
 | Mike on my 67 f-250 |
about me
make me famous
Michigan Peeps
My interests
Not so Local
poets and prayers
random
The Ohio Blogroll
Flickr Photos
|
R. M. Rilke
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
Oh, to whom can we turn for help?
Not angels, not humans;
and even the knowing animals are aware that we feel
little secure and at home in our interpreted world.
No comments yet
Comments feed for this article