Amor fati

“…And then you will find every pain and every pleasure, every friend and every enemy, every hope and every error, every blade of grass and every ray of sunshine once more, and the whole fabric of things which make up your life.” ~ Notes on the Eternal Recurrence, Friedrich Nietzsche

In a crowded room, a cafeteria perhaps;
a gallery, school hallway, hospital corridor.

The nave of a church as people press
toward the exit, dipping their fingertips

in the holy water before they go— I feel
your eyes on me before I turn to meet you,

before I even learn your name. What if someone
told the cheerful birds whose notes tumble

out of their throats against a backdrop
of trees and water and sky: time, like love

and death, knows no bounds. Whether or not
I trimmed my hair or nails, or crossed

the street or washed my hair before bed:
I do not think I could revise anything,

even if I tried. A musky smell precedes rain;
everything glitters after it has fallen.

 

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

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