mary oliver

[ravengirl.livejournal.com]

the poem is not the world.
it isn't even the first page of the world.

but the poem wants to flower, like a flower.
it knows that much.

it wants to open itself,
like the door of a little temple,
so that you might step inside and be cooled and refreshed,
and less yourself than part of everything.

~mary oliver
excerpt from the poem "flare"
from the book the leaf and the cloud