spring blooms and you find the love that's true

It's Go-time over here. Instead of writing poorly constructed sentences that will convince you that perhaps I ought never to return, allow me to close out the end of poetry month with a little something that sums up my current state of being:

Continuity
by A. R. Ammons

I've pressed so
far away from
my desire that

if you asked
me what I
want I would,

accepting the harmonious
completion of the
drift, say annihilation,

probably.

There's a lot I could say about why that is so fitting right now. But that's the beauty of poetry. No long-winded explanations, talking in circles around the heart of the feeling.

See you on the other side.