W. S. Merwin

Poetry is a way of looking at the world for the first time.

Separation 
Your absence has gone through me 
Like thread through a needle. 
Everything I do is stitched with its color.

We are asleep with compasses in our hands.

On the last day of the world
I would want to plant a tree

What you remember saves you.

The story of each stone leads back to a mountain.

Through all of youth I was looking for you
without knowing what I was looking for

Send me out into another life
lord because this one is growing faint
I do not think it goes all the way