You do not have to be good
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert repenting
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves
Tell me about your despair and I will tell you mine
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile, the sun and 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 clean 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
