Why am I so constantly amazed that I can't have everythilng when for so long I had nothing?
Worry is a kind of rehearsal for action or- more- a throwing of logs on a small bit of burning flame to incite oneself- to action, often of an indendiary kind.
Taste- but how much?
Whatever you do
The world pours in
Drink of it deeper and deeper
Still hungers drive the thoughts
Forward pulling time ahead of themselves, drinking
Celan- the "gravity" of the downward reading-
also- some qualities of Trilce
"Imagining" I'm magining
All that "looking forward and looking backward"- necessary, but so foolish. I imagine a cup- and 5 years are 1/4 to 1/5 of that cup. I.220.127.116.11.
But there is a poetic flavor to that spendthrift attitude towards time- the irony of having "plenty of time" so much you can "throw it away." It's stupid to live as if you can "save" time- and, like the seasons, our feelings and all of it repeats and repeats, like the tides-
The only sweeteners- courage and love.