Friday, July 27, 2012

to the night i offered

The Rose is without why
She blooms because she blooms
she does not care for herself
Asks not if she is seen.

~ Angelus Silesius

O F F E R I N G S 
by Howard Altmann

To the night I offered a flower
and the dark sky accepted it
like earth, bedding
for light.

To the desert I offered an apple
and the dunes received it
like a mouth, speaking 
for wind.

To the installation I offered a tree
and the museum planted it
like a man, viewing 
his place.

To the ocean I offered a seed 
and its body dissolved it
like time, composing
a life.

As for me, I aspire to be Sibelius's rose, to aspire not to be seen.  (Which I realize is a very strange thing to say on a blog that anyone under the sun can access).  But I understand this as an approach to creativity, to writing especially.  It's somehow reassuring to keep coming back to this sort of thinking, after having written an entire book (Hive) on the subject.

The idea in the poem by Altmann - that what you offer will be received.

That's my thought to ponder for the morning.  What will I offer to the dark sky, to the night? To the morning? To the light filtering through the suburban trees?

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