Nach mbeidh an fharraige a shealbhú ar mo bhád páipéir.


i bhfolach i garlands na feamainne.


Nach mbeidh an fharraige a shealbhú ar mo bhád páipéir.








we are all invisible men.


A human account of man.


we are all crazy creatures.


we can glimpse but not adopt.



The authentic vision of man. The madness of mad men. Our alienation goes to the root.

Idioms of union.
We are bemused crazy creatures.


We are born into a world where alienation awaits us.



Even facts become fictions.


We demand evidence.


The others behaviour is quite unknown. The true field of inter experience.


To watch the courses of the stars.


Evidence. Falling into the sea.






The experience of the other.


To be like a rock, that the waves crashing over.


To give up without complaint.


Forget everything else.


Each of us lives only now.


There cannot be time, only now.


Forget everything else.


The now. This brief instant.


Nothing but change.


The sky knows longing.







To be like a rock that the waves keep crashing over.

It stands unmoved and the raging of the sea falls still around it.


The world is nothing but change. Our life is only perception.




Perhaps this is failure and perhaps this is the dream.


Let us be driven back into the ocean.


Without Melody.


Without order and simply seeking form.


Each of us lives only now.



~ by beatricejarvis on May 26, 2014.

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