give back your heart, to itself

The time will come
When, with elation,
You will greet yourself arriving
At your own door, in your own mirror,
And each will smile at the other’s welcome.

And say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine.
Give bread.
Give back your heart
To itself, to the stranger who has loved you

All your life, whom you ignored
For another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

The photographs, the desperate notes,
Peel your image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
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Derek Walcott.

too gentle to live among wolves

I am one of the searchers. There are, I believe, millions of us.

We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content. We continue to explore life, hoping to uncover its ultimate secret. We continue to explore ourselves, hoping to understand.

We like to walk along the beach, we are drawn by the ocean, taken by its power, its unceasing motion, its mystery and unspeakable beauty. We like forests and mountains, deserts and hidden rivers, and the lonely cities as well.

Our sadness is as much a part of our lives as is our laughter. To share our sadness with one we love is perhaps as great a joy as we can know – unless it be to share our laughter.

We searchers are ambitious only for life itself, for everything beautiful it can provide.

Most of all we love and want to be loved.

We want to live in a relationship that will not impede our wandering, nor prevent our search, nor lock us in prison walls; that will take us for what little we have to give. We do not want to prove ourselves to another or compete for love.

For wanderers,

dreamers,

and lovers,

for lonely men and women who dare to ask of life everything good and beautiful.

It is for those who are too gentle to live among wolves.

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Kavanaugh

coming back around again

Everyone who terrifies you is sixty-five percent water.

And everyone you love is made of stardust, and I know sometimes

you cannot even breathe deeply, and

the night sky is no home, and

you have cried yourself to sleep enough times

that you are down to your last two percent, but

nothing is infinite,

not even loss.

You are made of the sea and the stars, and one day

you are going to find yourself again.

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F. Scott

one foot in sea, one on shore

Love,

It will not betray you
Dismiss you, or
Enslave you.

It will set you free.

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for everything which is yes

i thank you

for this amazing day:
for the leaping greenly
spirits of trees
and the blue true dream of sky;

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and for everything
which is natural
which is infinite
which is yes

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e. e. cummings