Everyday I ask the loving voice of wisdom, which dwells in our hearts and in this world: “What would you have me know today?” And then I listen. This is what I heard one day, not long ago…

From elsewhere:

“In my house there are a hundred half-done poems.
Each of us leaves an unfinished life.”
(Mary Oliver, Thinking of Swirler)

From my heart:

Isn’t that glorious, beloved one?
You fill your days with purpose and your nights with reaching out—with arms and dreams—to the life you love living, and still more time flows in behind you.

More days flow in from the expanse of what hasn’t been.
And they will keep flowing long after your days flush through this world,
like a bubbling in a mossy wood, perhaps,
or like a mighty river,
or a waterfall.
All of them heading to the ocean.

And whatever you don’t complete, whatever you leave unfinished
—so long as you truly started it—
will get picked up again, after you, by the clouds, and cycled back into life.

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