I wish to praise what is fully alive,
What longs to flame toward death.
—Goethe, “Blessed Longing”
Longing, the deserted beach, smell of woodsmoke
and poems in a mystery of leaves—
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I wish to praise what is fully alive,
What longs to flame toward death.
—Goethe, “Blessed Longing”
Longing, the deserted beach, smell of woodsmoke
and poems in a mystery of leaves—
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