Be ahead of all departure; learn to act
as if, like the last winter, it was all over.
For among the winters, one is so exact
that wintering it, your heart will last forever.
Die, die through Eurydice--that you might pass
into the pure accord, praising the more, singing
the more; amongst the waning be the glass
that shudders in the sound of its own ringing.
Be, and at the same time know the state of non-being;
the boundless inner sky, that this time you might fully honour it.
Take all of nature, its one vast aggregate,
Jubilantly multiple it by the nothing of yourself, and clear the slate.
Originally Posted by Ivy
Gosh, the world looks so small from up here on my high horse of menstruation.