BLOG 3: This moment and tomorrow

 

When the wind is still for a little I think about my future, although that future is already here, and thinking about that scares me. At this moment I have my dream job, a part of it, because it is not a job because no one pays me a salary. In situation like this, I sometimes think of a Keats poem, of his magic words “When I have fears that I may cease to be/ before my pen has glean`d my teeming brain,/ Before high-piled books, in charactery…” then, from toe to head I need to be possessed by art, and everything I do has that end, so I hope that death does not reach me soon. 

My soul, my eyes, my hands and my entire body is the only skill I need. Even just my existence is enough; leaf over leaf and the sea dark or photo over photo and the wild grass is enough, sometimes just the look of the person I love is enough, because everything is matter, my breath  my life and the life of whoever reads this. I would never call myself a poet, but people call me a poet, that is my job and I hope that it will be tomorrow in the uncertain future that falls over my head.