Song
The weight of the
world
is love.
Under the burden
of solitude,
under the burden
of
dissatisfaction
the weight,
the weight we
carry
is love.
Who can deny?
In
dreams
it touches
the body,
in thought
constructs
a
miracle,
in imagination
anguishes
till born
in human—
looks out of the
heart
burning with purity-
for the burden of life
is love,
but we
carry the weight
wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
at
last,
must rest in the arms
of love.
No rest
without
love,
no sleep
without dreams
of love—
be mad or chill
obsessed
with angels
or machines,
the final wish
is love
—cannot be
bitter,
cannot deny,
cannot withhold
if denied:
the weight is too
heavy
—must give
for no
return
as thought
is given
in solitude
in all the excellence
of
its excess.
The warm bodies
shine
together
in the darkness,
the hand moves
to the center
of the
flesh,
the skin trembles
in happiness
and the soul comes
joyful to
the eye—
yes, yes,
that's
what
I wanted,
I always wanted,
I always wanted,
to return
to the
body
where I was born.
~ Allen Ginsberg
~
(Collected Poems
1947-1980)
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