The wisdom of the poets

I did a lot of writing in the months following Kieran's death, and a lot of poetry-reading as well.  Somehow thoughts and feelings needed the rigour of being forced into words, while comfort was found in the poets who could express the expansiveness possible in the transition from life in the body to life of the spirit.  October brings the one-year mark since Kieran's surgery last year on the 14th, and his passing on the 27th, and so I find myself returning to those poets as the memories of a year ago rise to the surface.  Here are a few choice lines:

Whitman:

"We have circled and circled till

we have arrived home again - we two have,

we have voided all but freedom,

and all but our own joy."

"Do you see O my brothers and sisters?
It is not chaos or death -
it is form, union, plan -
it is eternal life.

It is happiness."

Melville:
"How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall?"

"Oh, thou clear spirit, of thy fire thou madest me, and like a true child of fire, I breathe it back to thee."

Bhagavad-Gita:
"Never the spirit was born;
the spirit shall cease to be never;
Never was time it was not;
End and Beginning are dreams!"