"I am not one who was born in the custody of wisdom. I am one who is fond of olden times and intense in quest of the sacred knowing of the ancients." Gustave Courbet

26 February 2024

Go.


Who stays in his nest and doesn’t go out. 
He doesn’t know what birds know best
Nor what I want to sing about, 
That the world is full of loveliness. 
When dewdrops sparkle in the grass 
And earth’s a flood with morning light, 
A blackbird sings upon a bush 
To greet the dawning after night.
Then I know how fine it is to live.

Heh, try to open up your heart 
To beauty; go to the woods someday 
And weave a wreath of memory there. 
Then if the tears obscure your way 
You’ll know how wonderful it is to be alive.

Anonymous Child, written in Terezin Concentration Camp, 1941

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