Leave Me Hidden

I was having trouble deciding which to watch: Night of the Living Bloggers, or Attack of the Neck-Brace People. In the end I just went for a walk.  In the woods I stopped wondering why of all trees this one: my hand pressed to fissures and ridges of  bark’s hugely magnified fingerprint, forehead resting against it finally, feeling distinctly  a heartbeat, vast, silently booming there deep in my hidden leaves, blessed motherworld, personal underworld, thank you  thank you.  by Franz Wright.  Excerpted from F.  Copyright © 2013 by Franz Wright.   Alfred A. Knopf, a division of  Penguin Random House.

CANDLES            by Constantine Cavafy, translated by David Coomler at
https://hokku.wordpress.com/2016/04/06/the-days-dwindle-down-cavafys-candles/

The days to come stand before us
Like a row of lighted candles --
Golden, warm, and lively.

The days gone by remain behind,
A sad line of extinguished candles,
The nearest still smoking;
Cold candles, melted and bent.

I don't want to look at them; their form saddens me,
And it saddens me to remember their first light.
I look ahead to my lit candles.

I don't want to turn back, to see and tremble:
How fast the dark line grows --
How fast the extinguished candles multiply.