“Now it is autumn, and the falling fruit and the long journey toward oblivion. The apples falling like great drops of dew to bruise themselves and exit from themselves. And it is time to go. To bid farewell to one’s own self and find an exit from the fallen self. Have you built your ship of death? Oh, have you? Oh, build your ship of death for you will need it. We are dying! We are dying! So, all we can do is now to be willing to die and to build the ship of death to carry the soul on the longest journey. A little ship with oars and food and little dishes and all accoutrements fitting and ready for the departing soul. Now, launch the small ship. Now, as the body dies and life departs launch out the fragile soul in the fragile ship of courage. The ark of faith with its store of food and little cooking pans and change of clothes upon the flood’s black waves, upon the waters of the end, upon the sea of death where still we sail darkly, where we cannot steer and have no port.”
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ReplyDeleteRon:
ReplyDeleteYour post reminds me of the closing lyrics to "September Song":
Oh, it's a long, long while from May to December
But the days grow short when you reach September
When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame
One hasn't got time for the waiting game
Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November
And these few precious days I'll spend with you
These precious days I'll spend with you
In his short life, Lawrence managed to make his mark in more ways than one. His commentary on British "niceness" is dry as toast.
ReplyDeleteCapananda, thank you for the reminder!
ReplyDelete