Snow Geese Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last!What a taskto ask of anything, or anyone, yet it is ours, and not by the century or the year, but by the hours. One fall day I heard above me, and above the sting of the wind, a sound I did not know, and my look shot upward; it was a flock of snow geese, winging itfaster than the ones we usually see, and, being the color of snow, catching the sun so they were, in part at least, golden. I held my breath as we do sometimes to stop time when something wonderful has touched us as with a match, which is lit, and bright, but does not hurt in the common way, but delightfully, as if delightwere the most serious thing you ever felt. The geese flew on, I have never seen them again. Maybe I will, someday, somewhere. Maybe I won't. It doesn't matter.What matters is that, when I saw them, I saw them as through the veil, secretly, joyfully, clearly.
~ Mary Oliver ~
Yoga is the journey of the self, through the self, to the self. The Bhagavad Gita
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