Poetry, notes, and drawings by William Michaelian
love. but then that is the same thing, isn't it?
aye . . . ’tis so, ’tis so . . .
and then i happen upon this, Learn by little the desire for all things which perhaps is not desire at all but undying love which perhaps is not love at all but gratitude for the being of things which perhaps is not gratitude at all but the maker’s joy in what is made, the joy in which we come to rest. –Wendell Berry from Leavings
which is perhapsnot rest at all but breath(lovely)
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