Containing the earth, the stars, and all life within.

A man and a woman and a blackbird are one,

The river is moving, carrying us all.

I was of three minds, a tree with three blackbirds,

Rooted in the soil, reaching for the heavens.

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,

Leaving behind the echoes of who I was.

The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me,

But I am more than my past,

I am the morning and the evening, the sun and the shadow.

It was evening all afternoon, softly snowing,

As if time stood still.

(“Song of Myself” and “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird”)