3.26.2025

to do what we do does not mean joy

What I did I did. 
I knew that I loved you 
and told you that. 
Then I lied to you 
often so you would love me, 
hid the truth, 
shammed, lied. 
 
Once human beings 
in their way do what they do 
they find peakéd 
castles ahead, they see 
lanterns aloft over 
the seal-like masses 
where they love at night. 
 
The hurricane carries 
off the snail, still 
clinging to his pine 
tree. At night the o-
possum sees the golden 
lion upside 
down in his dream. 
 
To do what we do 
does not mean joy. The sun 
rises, and some- 
thing strong guides the sun 
over the sky until 
it carries its spark down 
to the northern forests. 
 
 [Robert Bly {1926-2021} 'Letter to Her', from Collected Poems]

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