I was reading the year's recap, and thought I better stop. 2017, argh. It has a lot to be depressed about. But instead of dwelling on that, I decided to open up one of my favorite, passionate, purple poems so I can think of other things, better things, including the truly great . . .
THE TRULY GREAT by Stephen Spender
I think continually of those who were truly great.
Who, from the womb, remembered the soul’s history
Through corridors of light, where the hours are suns,
Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition
Was that their lips, still touched with fire,
Should tell of the Spirit, clothed from head to foot in song.
And who hoarded from the Spring branches
The desires falling across their bodies like blossoms.
(The rest of the poem can be read here.)