(no subject)

[geekchick]

Someone posted this on a mailing list I'm on.

[...]
I wonder
what can come of these minutes,
each a hard inner tumbling, as when a key nearly won't turn,
or the note of a piano, clattered or stroked, ringing.

Everyone knows
everything sings and dies.
But it could be, too, everything dies and sings,
and a life is the interlude
when, still humming, we can look up, gawk about, imagine whatever,
   say it,
topple back into singing.
Oh first our voice be done, and then, before and afterwards and all
   around it, that singing.

                                                  -- Galway Kinnell

[Excerpted from "Flower With Five Blossoms," in When One Has Lived A Long Time Alone]