I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone.
I am too alone in the world, and not alone enough to make every minute holy. I am too tiny in this world, and not tiny enough just to lie before you like a thing, shrewd and secretive. I want my own will, and I want simply to be with my will, as it goes towards action. And in the silent sometimes hardly moving times when something is coming near, I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone. I want to be a mirror for your whole body and I never want to be blind or to be too old to hold up your heavy and swaying picture. I want to unfold. I don’t want to stay folded anywhere because where I am folded, there I am a lie. I want my grasp of things true before you. I want to describe myself like a painting that I looked at closely for a long time, like a saying that I finally understood, like the pitcher that I use every day, like the face of my mother, like a ship that took me safely through the wildest storm of all.