31

Ich liebe meines Wesens Dunkelstunden

I love the dark hours of my being.
My mind deepens into them.
There I can find, as in old letters,
the days of my life, already lived,
and held like a legend, and understood.

Then the knowing comes: I can open
to another life that's wide and timeless.

So I am sometimes like a tree
rustling over a gravesite
and making real the dream
of the one its living roots
embrace:

a dream once lost
among sorrows and songs.

Rilke

It's late. It's my birthday. J.D. is playing Civilization. He's the Japanese, and he just started researching The Manhattan Project in Nagasaki, rather a disturbing piece of irony. We're going to witness --- scratch that--- I'm going to witness the disappearing hour of my birthday. (I just told J.D. that in 15 minutes it will be 3:00 a.m., and he instantly disappeared to bed. World domination will have to wait for a more decent hour). Funny. Well, perhaps I should wrap things up. It's been a good day so far. Joy wished me happy birthday. J.D. brought me a tiny cupcake with a candle. We watched Persepolis. We got fast food; I wore a t-shirt with holes, pants with bleach discolorations, and the beautiful little necklace my brother gave me. The weather here is calm and lovely. We waited with the windows down and felt the warm night air. In the morning I think I'll straighten house and listen to Speaking of Faith. I have a HUGE scrapbooking mess to clean up. J.D. needs to go into work for a couple of hours too. Then maybe we'll wander off to the Botanical Garden to see those orchids I've been imagining.

Until Daylight then.