Imprints

Imprints: “Blessed Longing”

Tell no one else, only the wise

For the crowd will sneer at one

I wish to praise what is fully alive,

What longs to flame toward death.

 

When the calm enfolds the love-nights

That created you, where you have been created

A feeling from the Unknown steals over you

While the tranquil candle burns.

 

You remain no longer caught

In the peneumbral gloom

You are stirred and new, you desire

To soar to higher creativity.

 

No distance makes you ambivalent 

You come on wings, enchanted

In such a hunger for light, you

Become the butterfly burnt to nothing

 

So long as you have not lived this:

To die is to become new,

You remain a gloomy guest

On the dark earth.

Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe.

 

 

 

 

 

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