Come Prima
by A.R. Ammons
I know
there is
perfection in the being
of my being,
that I am
holy in amness
as stars or paperclips,
that the universe,
moving from void to void,
pours in and out
through me:
there is a point,
only itself,
that fills space,
an emptiness
that is plenitude:
a void that is all being,
a being that is void:
I am perfect:
the wind is perfect:
ditchwater, running, is perfect:
everything is:
I raise my hand
(via dreaminginthedeepsouth)
Alienation begins when culture divides me against myself, puts a mask on me, gives me a role I may or may not want to play. Alienation is complete when I become completely identified with my mask, totally satisfied with my role, and convince myself that any other identity or role is inconceivable.
The man who sweats under his mask, whose role makes him itch with discomfort, who hates the division in himself, is already beginning to be free.
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