Renunciation (n.) is not "not-wanting-to-have" or leaving aside; it is the highest form of possession.
Renunciation (n.) is an abdication that already contains an avowal — a command the poet no longer denies himself.
Renunciation (n.) is a self-denial brought to fulfillment, and only to it is promised what has long lain concealed.
Renunciation (n.) owes thanks — it is a thanking, not mere refusal, still less a loss; and owing oneself as thanking is attuned to joy.
Renunciation (n.) is usually taken for weakness and a suspension of will, yet it can be one that holds fast and even gains by fighting — readiness for the refusal.
Renunciation (n.) is not a lapse into silence: as self-denial it remains Saying — which is why the poet who learned it had to write a poem called "Words."
Renunciation (n.) is no mere negating; it lets the refusal soar into the open — an originary standing, unsupported in the unprotected.
Renunciation (n.) speaks affirmatively: double negation — no thing where the word breaks off — means a thing may be only where the word is granted.
Renunciation (n.) is no mere refusal of a claim but the transformation of Saying into the echo of an inexpressible Saying, barely audible and songlike.