Secret shore

I want a life that is a secret shore,
that no one else but my Love would know.
I would weep and heal there.
I would love and die there.
I would see the most beautiful sunset and take no picture to show someone or sell somewhere.
I would see the magnificence of water and the sun,
Of the moon and the mount
Of the wolves and the hunt
Of the colours of her crown.
I would see where things begin and end, but tell no one.
Because, to speak of that 
would be to crack the perfect cup. 

1922, Internet Archive Book Images. Haynes, Jack Ellis. Harold B. Lee Library via Brigham Young University

On the fear of silence

If you’re afraid of the quiet,
know that it has no agenda.
And that the scream you start to feel— not hear, feel at the edge of each cell,
coming from deep within the temporal lobe of your brain
blooming from the amygdala,
through the dorsal anterior cingulate cortex
welling up like a wave,
And making you catch your breath—
is not a battle cry from the outside.

Close your eyes, 
Watch the wave rise.
Let it come.
Bow down your head and let it wash over you.
And on the other side of the wave—
After the rush has filled you and gone with its ringing
you’ll see,
that there’s nothing, 
no one;
But, you, 
the night, 
and a sleepy black sea.

1912, The American annual of photography; Horace Sykes. Harold B. Lee Library via Brigham Young University


Listen 

Listen to the quiet, and you will hear the enormity of this all. 
Remember, embedded in the sound of silence, is the knowledge of everything. 

 

1908, Motoring abroad, Presbrey, Frank Spencer. The Outing Publishing Company, New York