This month will focus on W.H. Auden. Starting … now.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.
(Auden, W.H. “The More Loving One.” Homage to Clio. New York: Random House. 1960.)
via rimbaud-was-a-rolling-stone on the tumblr.
It seems to me, I suppose unfairly, that in a pair there is always a lover and a lovee. My nearly lifelong preference for the safely sheltered harbor of being a lovee has made me deliberately pass over and miss crucial opportunities, not to mention made a secret hypocrite and liar of me many times over, while allowing me never to really share all of myself.
It’s a journey that lacks the thrill of a rocky climb or winding bridge over water where your hands are clasped and you jump together over giant roots; it’s a dry, smooth, straight path that lacks all scenery and leaves you feeling more alone with someone else than by yourself. To consciously choose to change this behavior (which of course is a shield I long ago threw up to defend against pain down the road and have never fallen out of the habit) is one of my many resolves, but one that I don’t know when I will possibly be ready to put in to practice.
via bleedtoblack on the tumblr.
Oh — I’m coming at this poem from the perspective that it’s about more than stars. But even just the stars layer of meaning is cool, too, I guess.
Tags: a confession, advice, alone, art, Auden October, candids, fear, Homage to Clio, hypocrisy, images, It happens, lies, loneliness, love, love stinks, lovee, lover, models, movie quotes, movies, photography, Pictures, poem, poems, poet, poetry, quotes, stars, The More Loving One, W.H. Auden