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Fear was my father, Father Fear. His look drained the stones.

Theodore Roethke

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Theodore Roethke
Age: 55 †
Born: 1908
Born: May 25
Died: 1963
Died: August 1
Poet
Teacher
Writer
Saginaw
Michigan
Drained
Stones
Fear
Father
Look
Looks

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How body from spirit slowly does unwind, until we are pure spirit at the end.
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The stones were sharp, The wind came at my back Walking along the highway, Mincing like a cat.
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The indignity of it!- With everything blooming above me, Lilies, pale-pink cyclamen, roses, Whole fields lovely and inviolate,- Me down in the fetor of weeds, Crawling on all fours, Alive, in a slippery grave.
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Art is our defense against hysteria and death.
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All lovers live by longing, and endure: Summon a vision and declare it pure.
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Pain wanders through my bones like a lost fire
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I came to love, I came into my own.
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And soon a branch, part of a hidden scene,The leafy mind, that long was tightly furled,Will turn its private substance into green,And young shoots spread upon our inner world.
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In a dark time, the eye begins to see / I meet my shadow in the deepening shade...Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire.
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By daily dying, I have come to be.
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Live in a perpetual great astonishment.
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In this place of light: he dares to live Who stops being a bird, yet beats his wings Against the immense immeasurable emptiness of things.
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