House of Light by Mary Oliver

Still, what I want in my life
is to be willing
to be dazzled
to cast aside the weight of facts

and maybe even
to float a little
above this difficult world.
I want to believe I am looking

into the white fire of a great mystery.
I want to believe that the imperfections are nothing
that the light is everything that it is more than the sum
of each flawed blossom rising and falling. And I do.

Red Sorrow (Rooi Verdriet)

I wake up in a very old house. My spouse is with me. Everything in the house is old, including the bed linen. I ask my spouse, “Where are we”? He replies: “We are renting this house”.

I hear voices outside the bedroom window, and when I open the curtains, I see a pavilion outside the window. Instead of people, there are rows upon rows of birds which look almost like vultures.
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