"One day it's the clouds,
one day the mountains.
One day the latest bloom of roses-
Every now and then there's the splendor of thought:
words, cadence, point of view,
little gold arrows flitting between the lines.
And too the splendor of no thought at all:
hands lying calmly in the lap,
without a second thought,
especially as it arrives and departs.
one day the night and its array of jewels,
visible and invisible.
Sometimes it's the warm clarity
of a face that finds your face
and doesn't turn away.
Sometimes a kindness, unexpected,
that will radiate farther than you might imagine.
One day it's the entire day itself,
its cumbersome clothes,
large enough for fear and doubt,
with room to spare: the most secret
wish, the deepest, the darkest,
turned inside out."
- Thomas Centolella