I thought:

maybe death

isn’t darkness, after all,

but so much light

wrapping itself around us—

as soft as feathers—

that we are instantly weary

of looking, and looking, and shut our eyes,

not without amazement,

and let ourselves be carried,

as through the translucence of mica,

to the river

that is without the least dapple or shadow—

that is nothing but light—scalding, aortal light—

in which we are washed and washed

out of our bones.

~Mary Oliver

will I continue to notice and refine and believe?

inquiry for today~ the greater mysteries underlie your hope today….

jaded no more…..

Happiness comes of the capacity to feel deeply,

to enjoy simply, to think freely, to risk life, to be needed.

~Storm Jameson