to be, or not. to be or not.
whether tis' nobler... or not.
to suffer slings & arrows of outrageous fortune,
or to take arms against a sea of troubles.
& by opposing, end. no more.
them natural shocks that flesh is heir to, consummated to.
( in that sleep of death what dreams may come to?)
when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, this gives us pause.
there is a respect that makes for this calamitous & long, long life.
the whip & scorn of time, the oppressor's contumely
the law's delay, the insolence of office that spurns patient merit.
(make quietus with a bare bodkin?) fardels bear & grunt&sweat.)
but. death's undiscovered country from whence none return:
muzzles the will. we'd choose present ills than fly to new ones-
conscious is our cowardice. & th' native hue of resolution is sickled by
thought's pale. enterprises' pith turns awry-.
but soft all, & ophelia, horatio too.
--" remember sins & my irresolutions too"-
thoughts are the excreta of the body. when in equilibrium they would be content to be the longed-for exhalation, the sigh-ideally nothing more need ever be spoken of,to
ReplyDeletemy brain is a temple. altars & incense, i burn away the day's muck & disappointments. its clean now & i breathe in the vast light of its large lobed chandelier. a river expands and grows wide-darting fish in it. the shadows swing on the walls of the widening skull.the outside world has become very small indeed. i too am become small in the brain's mind.
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