Your Feet

When reading Pablo Neruda, the words sensuous, exquisite, and real come to mind immediately. This gem, YOUR FEET, is an apotheosis. With a few, simple, very well chosen words, he weaves for us an intimate tapestry displaying a warm, lush, rich glimpse into the overflowing heart place of a lover’s desire, touching each of us very deeply. Pablo, thank you very much.

In a few weeks this poem will be shared during the marriage ceremony of two young and very gifted actors.


When I cannot look at your face
I look at your feet.

Your feet of arched bone,
your hard little feet.

I know that they support you,
and that your sweet weight
rises upon them.

Your waist and your breasts,
the doubled purple
of your nipples,
the sockets of your eyes
that have just flown away,
your wide fruit mouth,
your red tresses,
my little tower.

But I love your feet
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.

Pablo Neruda


Charlie and Cheryl Cavalconte

A Hopeful Quote

“When we come to the end of all the light there is and we face nothing but the darkness, we must trust that one of two things will happen: either we will have something firm to stand on, or we will be learn how to fly.”

We love this quote. I came across this quote as I was waiting for a job interview. I was not feeling at the top of my game and this quote gave me the the boost I needed. I have suggested it to so many people as a note of encouragment. We hope it is helpful to you. The research of who wrote the quote lead me to Edward Teller as the reported author.

Enjoy. Charlie and Cheryl Cavalconte

A Line from Rumi

This morning I am touched by this beautiful line from Rumi and I thought I would share it with my readers. Enjoy.

Let yourself be silently drawn
by the strange pull of what you really love.
It will not lead you astray.

~ Rumi ~

(Essential Rumi, versions by Coleman Barks)

Charlie and Cheryl Cavalconte


“LOVE” A Poem by Roy Croft

by Roy Croft

I love you
Not only for what you are,
But for what I am
When I am with you.

I love you,
Not only for what
You have made of yourself,
But for what
You are making of me.

I love you
For the part of me
That you bring out;
I love you
For putting your hand
Into my heaped-up heart
And passing over
All the foolish, weak things
That you can’t help dimly seeing there,
And drawing out
Into the light
All the beautiful belongings
That no one else had looked
Quiet far enough to find.

I love you because you
Are helping me to make
Of the lumber of my life,
Not a tavern but a temple,
Out of the works of my everyday,
Not a reproach but a song.

I love you
Because you have done
More than any creed
Could have done
To make me good
And more than any fate
Could have done
To make me happy.

You have done it
Without a touch,
Without a word,
Without a sign.
You have done it by being yourself.
Perhaps that is what
Being a friend means,

We first encountered this piece many years ago as an anonymous poem set adrift on the internet separated from it’s author. Then, as we rummaged around we were very happy to discover that Roy Croft wrote “LOVE”  in the 1950’s. It speaks for itself why so many couples choose this poem for a reading at their celebration.


Charlie and Cheryl Cavalconte

“Love Is A Temporary Madness

“Love is a temporary madness; it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision.
You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is.
Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion.
That is just being ‘in love,’ which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both art and a fortunate accident.
Your roots grow towards each other underground, and when all the pretty petals have fallen from your branches, you will find that you are one tree and not two.
From Corelli’s Mandolin

This essay is from the book. The couple who first shared this reading with us, and who subsequently used it in their ceremony, met in a creative writing class. Every aspect of their ceremony was about words, writing, language and the images created by well chosen and woven words.

Charlie and Cheryl Cavalconte

A Reading: From “Song of the Open Road”

Walt Whitman Reading   From “Song of the Open Road”

I do not offer the old smooth prizes,

but offer rough new prizes;

These are the days that must happen to you:

You shall not heap up what is called riches,

You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve.

However sweet these laid up stores,

however convenient this dwelling,

you shall not remain here.

However sheltered this port,

and however calm these waters,

you shall not anchor here.

However welcome this hospitality that surrounds you,

you are permitted to receive it but a little while.

Afoot and lighthearted, take to the open road,

Healthy, free, the world before you,

The long brown path before you, leading wherever you choose.

You have only to say to one another:

I give you my hand!

I give you my love, more precious than money,

I give you myself before preaching or law:

Will you give me yourself?

Will you come travel with me?

Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

Charlie and Cheryl Cavalconte

Letter to a Young Poet- Rainer Maria Rilke

I had the great good fortune to be introduced to Rilker when I was young and just barely understood. Today, I listen to the words, one by one.

From Letter #27. Rome 1904

It is also good to love: because love is difficult. For one human being to love another human being: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been entrusted to us, the ultimate task, the final test and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation. That is why young people, who are beginners in everything, are not yet capable of love: it is something they must learn. With their whole being, with all their forces, gathered around their solitary, anxious, upward-beating heart, they must learn to love. But learning-time is always a long, secluded time, and therefore loving, for a long time ahead and far on into life, is: solitude, a heightened and deepened kind of aloneness for the person who loves. Loving does not at first mean merging, surrendering, and uniting with another person (for what would a union be of two people who are unclarified, unfinished, and still incoherent?), it is a high inducement for the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become world, to become world in himself for the sake of another person; it is a great, demanding claim on him, something that chooses him and calls him to vast distances. Only in this sense, as the task of working on themselves (“to hearken and to hammer day and night”), may young people use the love that is given to them. Merging and surrendering and every kind of communion is not for them (who must still, for a long, long time, save and gather themselves); it is the ultimate, is perhaps that for which human lives are as yet barely large enough.

Charlie and Cheryl Cavalconte