The weight of the world is love. Under the burden of solitude, under the burden of dissatisfaction... the weight, the weight we carry is love.

The weight of the world is love. Under the burden of solitude, under the burden of dissatisfaction the weight, the weight we carry is love. Who can deny? In dreams it touches the body, in thought constructs a miracle, in imagination anguishes till born in human-- looks out of the heart burning with purity-- for the burden of life is love, but we carry the weight wearily, and so must rest in the arms of love at last, must rest in the arms of love. No rest without love, no sleep without dreams of love-- be mad or chill obsessed with angels or machines, the final wish is love --cannot be bitter, cannot deny, cannot withhold if denied: the weight is too heavy --must give for no return as thought is given in solitude in all the excellence of its excess. The warm bodies shine together in the darkness, the hand moves to the center of the flesh, the skin trembles in happiness and the soul comes joyful to the eye-- yes, yes, that's what I wanted, I always wanted, I always wanted, to return to the body where I was born. San Jose, 1954 Allen Ginsberg - Song Howl and Other Poems

Unbearable pain...

« J’ai vécu dans un monde qui ne ressemblait pas à celui-ci, j’ai eu les clés et ce n’est plus vivre que savoir qu’on vit en exil… » L'Amour Monstre, Louis Pauwels.

Hide me somewhere deeper, somewhere really buried… Hide me in your humiliation.

First Meetings ~ Arseniy Tarkovsky ( The Mirror ) ~

First Meetings

Every moment that we were together 

Was a celebration, like Epiphany, 

In all the world the two of us alone. 

You were bolder, lighter than a bird's wing, 

Heady as vertigo you ran downstairs 

Two steps at a time, and led me 

Through damp lilac, into your domain 

On the other side, beyond the mirror. 

When night came I was granted favor, 

The gates before the altar opened wide 

And in the dark our nakedness was radiant 

As slowly it inclined. And waking 

I would say, 'Blessings upon you!' 

And knew my benediction was presumptuous: 

You slept, the lilac stretched out from the table 

To touch your eyelids with a universe of blue, 

And you received the touch upon your eyelids 

And they were still, and still your hand was warm. 

Vibrant rivers lay inside the crystal, 

Mountains loomed through mist, seas foamed, 

And you held a crystal sphere in your hands, 

Seated on a throne as still you slept, 

And--God in heaven!--you belonged to me. 

You awoke and you transfigured 

The words that people utter every day, 

And speech was filled to overflowing 

With ringing power, and the word 'you' 

Discovered its new purport: it meant 'king'. 

Ordinary objects were at once transfigured, 

Everything--the jug, the basin--when 

Placed between us like a sentinel 

Stood water, laminary and firm. 

We were led, not knowing whither, 

Like mirages before us there receded 

Cities built by miracle, 

Wild mint was laying itself beneath our feet, 

Birds traveling by the same route as ourselves, 

And in the river fishes swam upstream; 

And the sky unrolled itself before our eyes. 

When fate was following in our tracks 

Like a madman with a razor in his hand.

Arseniy Tarkovsky ( The Mirror )