Scraps of moon
bobbing
discarded on broken water
but sky-moon
complete, transcending
all
violation
Here she seems to be talking to herself about
the shape of a
life:
Only Once
All which, because it
was
flame and song and granted us
joy, we thought we'd do, be,
revisit,
turns out to have been what it was
that once, only; every
invitation
did not begin
a series, a build-up: the marvelous
did not
happen in our lives, our stories
are not drab with its absence: but
don't
expect to return for more. Whatever more
there will be will
be
unique as those were unique. Try
to acknowledge the next
song in its
body-halo of flames as utterly
present, as now or never.
~ Denise Levertov
~
(The Great
Unknowing)
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