.
Every year we have been
witness to it: how the
world descends
into a rich mash, in order that
it may resume.
And therefore
who would cry out
.
to the petals on the ground
to stay,
knowing, as we must,
how the vivacity of what was is married
.
to the vitality of what will be?
I don’t say
it’s easy, but
what else will do
.
if the love one claims to have for the world
be true?
So let us go on
.
though the sun be swinging east,
and the ponds be cold and black,
and the sweets of the year be doomed.
.
~ Mary Oliver
.
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