I I sought a theme and sought for it in vain, I sought it daily for six weeks or so. Maybe at last, being but a broken man, I must be satisfied with my heart, although Winter and summer till old age began My circus animals were all on show, Those stilted boys, that burnished chariot, Lion and woman and the Lord knows what. II What can I but enumerate old themes? First that sea-rider Oisin led by the nose Through three enchanted islands, allegorical dreams, Vain gaiety, vain battle, vain repose, Themes of the embittered heart, or so it seems, That might adorn old songs or courtly shows; But what cared I that set him on to ride, I, starved for the bosom of his faery bride? And then a counter-truth filled out its play, ‘The Countess Cathleen’ was the name I gave it; She, pity-crazed, had given her soul away, But masterful Heaven had intervened to save it. I thought my dear must her own soul destroy, So did fanaticism and hate enslave it, And this brought forth a dream and soon enough This dream itself had all my thought and love. And when the Fool and Blind Man stole the bread Cuchulain fought the ungovernable sea; Heart-mysteries there, and yet when all is said It was the dream itself enchanted me: Character isolated by a deed To engross the present and dominate memory. players and painted stage took all my love, And not those things that they were emblems of. III Those masterful images because complete Grew in pure mind, but out of what began? A mound of refuse or the sweepings of a street, Old kettles, old bottles, and a broken can, Old iron, old bones, old rags, that raving slut Who keeps the till. Now that my ladder’s gone, I must lie down where all the ladders start In the foul rag-and-bone shop of the heart. – William Butler Yeats, "The Circus Animals’ Desertion"

Love at the lips was touch As sweet as I could bear; And once that seemed too much; I lived on air That crossed me from sweet things, The flow of–was it musk From hidden grapevine springs Downhill at dusk? I had the swirl and ache From sprays of honeysuckle That when they're gathered shake Dew on the knuckle. I craved strong sweets, but those Seemed strong when I was young; The petal of the rose It was that stung. Now no joy but lacks salt, That is not dashed with pain And weariness and fault; I crave the stain Of tears, the aftermark Of almost too much love, The sweet of bitter bark And burning clove. When stiff and sore and scarred I take away my hand From leaning on it hard In grass and sand, The hurt is not enough: I long for weight and strength To feel the earth as rough To all my length.

‘To Earthward” by Robert Frost

jeff clark’s word portrait of albert einstein

Buckets of rain Buckets of tears Got all them buckets comin' out of my ears. Buckets of moonbeams in my hand, I got all the love, honey baby, You can stand. I been meek And hard like an oak I seen pretty people disappear like smoke. Friends will arrive, friends will disappear, If you want me, honey baby, I'll be here. Like your smile And your fingertips Like the way that you move your lips. I like the cool way you look at me, Everything about you is bringing me Misery. Little red wagon Little red bike I ain't no monkey but I know what I like. I like the way you love me strong and slow, I'm takin' you with me, honey baby, When I go. Life is sad Life is a bust All ya can do is do what you must. You do what you must do and ya do it well, I'll do it for you, honey baby, Can't you tell?

Arvo Pärt – Agnus Dei