The Hill

This normative hill like all others is transparently accessible, out there and in the mind, not to be missed except in peril of one's life. Do not muse on it from a distance: it's not remote for the view only, it's for the sport of climbing. What the hill demands is a man with forces flowering as from the crevices of rocks and rough surfaces wild flowers force themselves towards the sun and burn for a moment. How often must I say to myself what I say to others: trust your nerves— in conversation or in bed the rhythm comes. And once you begin hang on for life. What is survival? What is existence? I am not talking about poetry. I am talking about perishing outrageously and calling it activity. I say: be done with it. I say: you've got to love that hill. Be wrathful, be impatient that you are not on the hill. Do not forgive yourself or other, though charity is all very well. Do not rest in irony or acceptance. Man should not laugh when he is dying. In decent death you flow into another kind of time which is the hill you always thought you knew.