Mineral pools remember a lot about history.
Here we are at Ojo Caliente, sitting together.
Soaking up the rumble of earth’s forgetfulness.
Why should we worry if Anna Karenina ends badly?
The worlds is reborn each time a mouse
Puts her foot down on the dusty barn floor.
Sometimes ohs and ahs bring us joy. When
You place your life inside the vowels, the music
Opens the doors to a hundred closed nights.
People say that even in the highest heaven
If you managed to keep your ears open
You would hear angels weeping night and day.
The culture of the Etruscans has disappeared.
So many things are over. A thousand hopes
F. Scott Fitzgerald had for himself are gone.
No one is as lucky as those who live on the earth.
Even the Pope finds himself longing for darkness.
The sun catches on fire in the lonely heavens.
For Hanna and Martin
~ Robert Bly
from My Sentence was a Thousand Years of Joy
