Don’t tell me how to live my blog! Ever.
Child of the Moon
By Pablo Neruda
Everything here is alive,
working at something,
without thought of my patience; yet
when the track was laid down
a hundred years ago
I never winced for the cold;
my heart, soaking in rain
under the skies of Cautín
so much as a gesture
open the way
to all the was hurtling itself into existence.
I never lifted
a finger in the public domain
of the cosmos that my friends
thrust toward sumptuous Alderbaran.
Among self-serving organisms
that do nothing but ogle and eavesdrop
I was humbled in ways I dare not describe
lest someone cheapen my verse
to a snivel,
now I have learned to turn grief
into energy, lavish my power on a page,
on the dust, on a stone in the road.
Having managed so long without splitting
a rock or cutting a plank to its size,
I feel the world never belonged to me: it is part
of the hewers and hammerers
who raised up the roofbeams: and
if the mortar that launched an endured the design’s continuity
was poured by other hands than my own,
hands black with the mud and the blood of the world,
I no longer have the right to assert
my existence: I was a child of the moon.
Bricolage (pronounced /ˌbriːkɵˈlɑːʒ/ or /ˌbrɪkɵˈlɑːʒ/) is a term used in several disciplines, among them the visual arts, to refer to the construction or creation of a work from a diverse range of things that happen to be available, or a work created by such a process. The term is borrowed from the French word bricolage, from the verb bricoler, the core meaning in French being, “fiddle, tinker” and, by extension, “to make creative and resourceful use of whatever materials are at hand (regardless of their original purpose)”. In contemporary French the word is the equivalent of the English do it yourself, and is seen on large shed retail outlets throughout France. A person who engages in bricolage is a bricoleur. [aka a Tweeter]