“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being “in love” which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident"

CUTTING LOOSE


William Stafford



Sometimes from sorrow, for no reason,

you sing. For no reason, you accept

the way of being lost, cutting loose from all else and electing a world where you go

where you want to.



Arbitrary, sound comes, a reminder

that a steady center is holding

all else. If you listen, that sound will tell where it is, and you can slide your way past trouble.



Certain twisted monsters

always bar the path—but that’s when you get going best, glad to be lost, learning how real it is

here on the earth, again and again.