sometimes the heart may yearn for what it doesn’t have.
but as that yearning may force us to look more closely at ourselves, we often reveal of all of the abundance we already contain. we already have everything we need. as we think we settle into the shape and size of ourselves we may uncover that in fact we are limitless. there are no walls which hold us in. our spirit is the shape and size of everything…
we contain multitudes.
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
The last scud of day holds back for me,
It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow’d wilds,
It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.
I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.
Walt Whitman, Song of Myself