the silence

though the air is full of singing
my head is loud
with the labor of words.

though the season is rich
with fruit, my tongue
hungers for the sweet of speech/

though the beech is golden
I cannot stand beside it
mute, but must say

"it is golden" while the leaves
stir and fall woth sound
that is not a name.

it is in the silence
that my hope is, and my aim.
a song whose lines

and not mourn: the world
lives in the death of speech
and sings here.

-wendell berry

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Perhaps I should become a buddhist. Perhaps, if I rid myself of this want, I will be happier. I am happy, but I am also sad. For I cannot have what I want. Not at the moment at least.

Perhaps I should be glad with what I have. friends that love me, parents that love me (unlike cort), and a roof over my head. Perhaps I dont truly need what I want.

Perhaps that last sentance is a lie.

I am cultured. I read poetry, listened to classical music, drank some green tea, sat in a wigwam, wore a sombrero, and learned somalian. I should be on some tv show or something.

For those about to rock.

We salute you.


And laugh at you, because you're dumb.