Every year everything I have ever learned in my lifetime leads back to this: the fires and the black river of loss whose other side is salvation
A lifetime isn't long enough for the beauty of this world and the responsibilities of your life.
How many mysteries have you seen in your lifetime? How many nets pulled full over the boat's side, each silver body ready or not falling into submission? How many roses in early summer uncurling above the pale sands then falling back in unfathomable willingness? And what can you say? Glory to the rose and the leaf, to the seed, to the silver fish. Glory to time and the wild fields, and to joy. And to grief's shock and torpor, its near swoon.
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