Everything has two endings – a horse, a piece of string, a phone call.
Before a life, air.
And after.
As silence is not silence, but a limit of hearing.
As some strings, untouched, sound when no one is speaking.
So it was when love slipped inside us.
As this life is not a gate, but the horse plunging through it.
The heart’s actions
are neither the sentence nor its reprieve.
Salt hay and thistles, above the cold granite.
One bird singing back to another because it can’t not
Jane Hirshfield, born 1953, American poet: Come, Thief: Poems
photo brian robert marshall
Mindfulbalance 
Thanks so much for this mysterious excerpt. I copied part of it as a quote for my post. You should receive a pingback soon…
I’ve never seen this lovely poem – thanks for sharing. It’s very special. Love coming over to your blog for a moment of mindfulness. I always leave more fully awake!
Just exactly what you wrote. 🙂
Reblogged this on Gr8fullsoul.
Thank you for positing this. It made me stop and reflect in an otherwise hectic day! Your posts are lovely and look forward to reading more.