Pause. And begin again.

What Is the Beautiful?

The narrowing line.
Walking on the burning ground.
The ledges of stone.
Owlfish wading near the horizon.
Unrest in the outer districts.

Pause.

And begin again.
Needles through the eye.
Bodies cracked open like nuts.
Must have a place.
Dog has a place.

Pause.

And begin again.
Tents in the sultry weather.
Rifles hate holds.
Who is right?
Was Christ?
Is it wrong to love all men?

Pause.

And begin again.
Contagion of murder.
But the small whip hits back.
This is my life, Caesar.
I think it is good to live.

Pause.

And begin again.
Perhaps the shapes will open.
Will flying fly?
Will singing have a song?
Will the shapes of evil fall?
Will the lives of men grow clean?
Will the power be for good?
Will the power of man find its sun?
Will the power of man flame as a sun?
Will the power of man turn against death?
Who is right?
Is war?

Pause.

And begin again.
A narrow line.
Walking on the beautiful ground.
A ledge of fire.
It would take little to be free.
That no man hate another man,
Because he is black;
Because he is yellow;
Or because he is English;
Or German;
Or rich;
Or poor;

Because we are everyman.

Pause.

And begin again.
It would take little to be free.
That no man live at the expense of another.
Because no man can own what belongs to all.
Because no man can kill what all must use.
Because no man can lie when all men are betrayed.
Because no man can hate when all are hated.

And begin again.
I know that the shapes will opne.
Flying will fly, and singing will sing.
Because the only power of man is in good.
And all evil shall fail.
Because evil does not work,
Because the white man and the black man,
The Englishman and the German,
Are not real things.
They are only pictures of things.
Their shapes, like the shapes of the tree
And the flower, have no lives in names or signs;
They are their lives, and the real is in them.
And what is real shall always have life.

Pause.

I believe in the truth.
I believe that every good thought I have,
All men shall have.
I believe that what is best in me,
Shall be found in every man.
I believe that only the beautiful
Shall survive on the earth.

I believe that the perfect shape of everything
Has been prepared;
And, that we do not fit our own
Is of little consequence.
Man beckons to man on this terrible road.
I believe that we are going into the darkness now;
Hundreds of years will pass before the light
Shines over the world of all men . . .
And I am blinded by its splendor.

Pause.

And begin again.

- Kenneth Patchen

That is one of my favorite poems, from Patchen's 1943 book Cloth of the Tempest. I cite it here without permission, but with the certainty that such beauty should be shared, and that the author would probably not mind too much.

Here I am at a new begining, trying to pause and take stock in where I am, where I'm coming from, where I'm heading. I feel strangely optimistic. God, what a job we have. I don't think I can fully explain how just completely in awe I am of my job at the moment. At this moment, I'm sure I couldn't have a more worthwhile job anywhere. It's hard, and perhaps we are going into the darkness now, but I want to completely give myself over to it all. I want to suceed this year, more than I have ever wanted anything before. It's frightening, but if I can do this, if I can get this right, I can do anything. And I will do it. I may not have a life while doing it, but I'll get it done. Math is alright, but let me love these kids through math, let me show them beauty.