The sun glints through the pines, and the heart is pierced in a moment of beauty and strange pain, like a memory of paradise. After that day… we become seekers. — Peter Matthiessen
The sun glints through the pines, and the heart is pierced in a moment of beauty and strange pain, like a memory of paradise. After that day… we become seekers.
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Mary Oliver, Selected Poems
another wild geese favorite:
the wild geese do not intend to cast their image the water has no mind to receive their reflection
namaste
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