I felt first of all joyous. I felt that which joy is made of, and I realized that Joy itself must have been the impelling force, that which was before we were there, and that somehow Joy was in every part of our making. When the world was an ooze without any shape or direction, there must have been Joy reaching out and expressing itself everywhere.
Learning to love differently is hard
Love with the hands open, love
With the doors banging on their hinges
The cupboard unlocked, the wind
Roaring and whimpering in the rooms
Rustling the sheets and snapping the blinds
That thwack like rubber bands
In an open palm.