It is the price of vision
that we owe, the cost
of what has been here, what
can be. By this we are lost
to other possibility. In fear
and hope, by work and sleep
we are married here.
In fear and hope, by work and sleep... I love that. Also, from “Work Song”:
But this, now,
Is where I ought to be, and want to be,
And where I am. Desire and circumstance
are one.
Favorite poem in its entirety: the aforementioned “Work Song” or “The Bed.”