You don't have to be good.
You don't have to walk on you knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of you body
love what it loves.
Tell me your despair, your, and I will tell you mine.
meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscape,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clear blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting,
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
-Mary Oliver
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