August 4
Heaven and earth are the inn of all things, and time a guest who is only passing through. Life is a dream — how long does joy last? So take the candle and wander by night.
Poems (freely rendered)
Listening mode
Heaven and earth are the inn of all things, and time a guest who is only passing through. Life is a dream — how long does joy last? So take the candle and wander by night.
At the end of a good evening there often comes a moment when someone suggests not leaving yet. Everyone is tired, but no one wants to be the first to say so. You notice that something has gone well, and at the same time you sense that it can't be repeated.
Sometimes it is precisely the extra hour that turns out best. The conversations lose their order, and someone tells something they would have kept to themselves in daylight. But sometimes everything frays. Then, the next morning, what you mostly remember is the yawning and the effort of still finding something to say.
You can't tell the two apart in advance. Knowing that joy passes doesn't help you much here either. It can move you to stay, but just as easily to leave while everything is still good. Both can be wisdom, and both can be fear: the one of missing something, the other of a weak ending spoiling something beautiful after the fact.
You reach for your jacket. Or you put the kettle on once more.
