A Clear Midnight
This is thy hour, O Soul,
thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art,
the day erased, the lesson done.
Thee fully forth emerging
silent, gazing, pondering the themes
thou lovest best,
Night, sleep, death and the stars.
~ Walt Whitman ~
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
Who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture.
Still, treat each guest honourably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.