Look, the trees are turning their own bodies into pillars...

Every year/ everything/ I have ever learned

in my lifetime/ leads back to this: the fires/ and the black river of loss/ whose other side/ is salvation,/whose meaning/ none of us will ever know.

To live in this world/ you must be able/ to do three things:/ to love what is mortal;/ to hold it/ against your bones knowing/ your own life depends on it;/ and, when the time comes to let it go,/ to let it go. ------------------ ------------------- ------------------ ------------------- ------------------ ------------------- ------------------ ------------------- (fragments of Mary Oliver poem "In Blackwater Woods")