"I broke my heart in two
So hard I struck.
What matter? for I know
That out of rock,
Out of a desolate source,
Love leaps upon its course."
W.B. Yeats, Words for music perhaps and other poems, XI (1932)
Here I was, am, shall be, tending the tree I planted, by the well I built, with water from my hands. The clay under my fingernails that wo...
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