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In these smooth yet callused hands
I rub the dreams made of sands
The finer grains they run right through
And leave the ones of darker hue
Diamonds I have none for thee
For garnet black best fits me
Which lasts longer you may ask
In due time all things must past
Do they matter, these rings of gold
Can they protect you from the cold
I cup these stones against my chest
Open wounds a scarlet mess
" It is easy to know the beauty of inhuman things, sea,
storm and mountain; it is their soul and their
meaning.
Humanity has its lesser beauty, impure and painful; we
have to harden our hearts to bear it.
I have hardened my heart only a little; I have learned
that happiness is important, but pain gives
importance.
The use of tragedy: Lear becomes as tall as the storm he
crawls in; and a tortured Jew became God. "
~ The World's Wonders
Robinson Jeffers
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