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When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.
-- Mary Oliver
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There is no mechanism that will somehow redeem or reform this species within the course of its secular history. Not divine grace, not the progress of science, not evolution, not even the arrival of aliens from a remote planetary system. But there is an opening, a life, allowed to each one of us, an interval of consciousness and action. What is possible is possible only within that clearing, not in some distant future. That clearing is the present, which rolls forward through the calendar, year by year, century by century. Its texture -- the specificity and density of human experience -- entirely outstrips the capacity to predict it.
-- Verlyn Klinkenborg
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