When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.
This is an excerpt from one of my very favorite poems. The poem, When Death Comes by Mary Oliver, is a beautiful reminder to live each day with child-like wonder.
I think of that last line often. Am I just visiting this world? Or am I truly going to live here?