#become becoming

[endless-unfolding]

Then you'll remember your life as a book of candles, each page read by the light of its own burning.

Li-Young Lee, from “Become Becoming,” in Behind My Eyes

[whisperthatruns]

Become Becoming

Wait for evening. Then you'll be alone. Wait for the playground to empty. Then call out those companions from childhood: The one who closed his eyes and pretended to be invisible. The one to whom you told every secret. The one who made a world of any hiding place. And don't forget the one who listened in silence while you wondered out loud: Is the universe an empty mirror? A flowering tree? Is the universe the sleep of a woman? Wait for the sky's last blue (the color of your homesickness). Then you'll know the answer. Wait for the air's first gold (that color of Amen). Then you'll spy the wind's barefoot steps. Then you'll recall that story beginning with a child who strays in the woods. The search for him goes on in the growing shadow of the clock. And the face behind the clock's face is not his father's face. And the hands behind the clock's hands are not his mother's hands. All of Time began when you first answered to the names your mother and father gave you. Soon, those names will travel with the leaves. Then, you can trade places with the wind. Then you'll remember your life as a book of candles, each page read by the light of its own burning.

Li-Young Lee

[mirubelin]

Become Becoming 

by Li Young Lee

Wait for evening. 

Then you’ll be alone.  Wait for the playground to empty.  Then call out those companions from childhood:  The one who closed his eyes  and pretended to be invisible.  The one to whom you told every secret.  The one who made a world of any hiding place.  And don’t forget the one who listened in silence  while you wondered out loud:  Is the universe an empty mirror? A flowering tree?  Is the universe the sleep of a woman?  Wait for the sky’s last blue  (the color of your homesickness).  Then you’ll know the answer.  Wait for the air’s first gold (that color of Amen).  Then you’ll spy the wind’s barefoot steps.  Then you’ll recall that story beginning  with a child who strays in the woods.  The search for him goes on in the growing  shadow of the clock.  And the face behind the clock’s face  is not his father’s face.  And the hands behind the clock’s hands  are not his mother’s hands.  All of Time began when you first answered  to the names your mother and father gave you.  Soon, those names will travel with the leaves.  Then, you can trade places with the wind.  Then you’ll remember your life  as a book of candles,  each page read by the light of its own burning.