Thursday, August 13, 2009
I'm not certain why I'm posting tonight. I have been thinking of doing so for several days. The lure has been strong, there are ideas enough to go around several times. But it has not been ... right. Tonight it is. Perhaps tomorrow it won't be.
But I do not feel compelled to post something witty, entertaining, thought provokingly original. I just want to post a perfect Sonnet. The one that has captured my attention since I first read it many, many years ago. From the poet who's voice often resides inside my head.
This door you might not open, and you did;
So enter now, and see for what slight thing
You are betrayed. . . . Here is no treasure hid,
No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring
The sought-for truth, no heads of women slain
For greed like yours, no writhings of distress,
But only what you see. . . . Look yet again --
An empty room, cobwebbed and comfortless.
Yet this alone out of my life I kept
Unto myself, lest any know me quite;
And you did so profane me when you crept
Unto the threshold of this room to-night
That I must never more behold your face.
This now is yours. I seek another place.
... Edna St. Vincent Millay
I hope someone reads this someday, here or someplace else and it means as much to them as it means to me.