How hard it is, to be forced to the conclusion that people should be, nine tenths of the time, left alone! – When there is that in me that longs for absolute commitment. One of the poem-ideas I had was that one could respect only the people who knew that cups had to be washed up and put away after drinking, and knew that a Monday of work follows a Sunday in the water meadows, and that old age with its distorting-mirror memories follows youth and its raw pleasures, but that it’s quite impossible to love such people, for what we want in love is release from our beliefs, not confirmation in them. That is where the ‘courage of love’ comes in – to have the courage to commit yourself to something you don’t believe, because it is what – for the moment, anyway – thrills your by its audacity. (Some of the phrasing of this is odd, but it would make a good poem if it had any words…)
How hard it is, to be forced to the conclusion that people should be, nine tenths of the time, left alone! – When there is that in me that longs for absolute commitment. One of the poem-ideas I had was that one could respect only the people who knew that cups had to be washed up and put away after drinking, and knew that a Monday of work follows a Sunday in the water meadows, and that old age with its distorting-mirror memories follows youth and its raw pleasures, but that it’s quite impossible to love such people, for what we want in love is release from our beliefs, not confirmation in them. That is where the ‘courage of love’ comes in – to have the courage to commit yourself to something you don’t believe, because it is what – for the moment, anyway – thrills your by its audacity. (Some of the phrasing of this is odd, but it would make a good poem if it had any words…)
