In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn
less,
And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.I know I am solid and sound,
To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow,
All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.I know I am deathless,
I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter’s compass,
I know I shall not pass like a child’s carlacue cut with a burnt
stick at night.I know I am august,
I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood,
I see that the elementary laws never apologize,
(I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by,
after all.)I exist as I am, that is enough,
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And if each and all be aware I sit content.One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is myself,
And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or ten
million years,
I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait.My foothold is tenon’d and mortis’d in granite,
I laugh at what you call dissolution,
And I know the amplitude of time.
Walt Whitman- Song of Myself: Section 20, stanza 6 to the end
I felt like sharing this because it’s just crazy how much I find myself relating to this. Hopefully I’m not the only one.
(via unwokenfool)
I totally forgot that I posted this here until right now.
This is, and always will be one of the greatest things I’ve ever read.