It is time, now, I said,
for the deepening and the quieting of the spirit
among the flux of happenings.
Something had pestered me so much
I thought my heart would break.
I mean, the mechanical part.
I went down in the afternoon
to the sea
which held me, until I grew easy.
About tomorrow, who knows anything.
Except that it will be time again,
for the deepening and the quieting of the spirit.
(Mary Oliver, Red Bird)