Birthday Max

Max (17 November 2010)

WHEREFORE?

O me! O life!–of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless–of cities filled with the foolish;
Of myself for ever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and
         who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light–of the objects mean–of the struggle
         ever renewed;
Of the poor results of all–of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around
         me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest–with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring–What good amid these, O me, O life?

ANSWER.

That you are here–that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.
–Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman: “Full of Life Now”

Full of life, now, compact, visible,
I, forty years old the eighty-third Year of The States,
To one a century hence, or any number of centuries hence,
To you, yet unborn, these, seeking you.

When you read these, I, that was visible, am become invisible;
Now it is you, compact, visible, realizing my poems, seeking me;
Fancying how happy you were, if I could be with you, and become your comrade;
Be it as if I were with you. (Be not too certain but I am now with you.)

–Walt Whitman (b. 31 May 1819)

Walt Whitman: “To You”

To You

Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me,

why should you not speak to me?

And why should I not speak to you?

–Walt Whitman

Photo credit: Stranger Passing Chinese by Clearly Ambiguous