We are too alone in the world, and not alone enough to make ever minuteholy.I am too tiny in this world, and not tiny enough just to lie before you likea thing, shrewd and secretive.
I want my own will, and I want simply to be with my will, as it goes towardaction, and in the silent, sometimes hardly moving times when something iscoming 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, orto 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.And I want my grasp of things true before you.  I want to describe you likea painting that I looked at closely for a long time, like a saying that Ifinally understood, like the pitcher I use every day, like the face of my
mother, like a ship that took me safely through the wildest storm of all.