*by Mary Oliver* >3. >I know, you never intended to be in this world. >But you’re in it all the same. > >so why not get started immediately. > >I mean, belonging to it. >There is so much to admire, to weep over. > >And to write music or poems about. > >Bless the feet that take you to and fro. >Bless the eyes and the listening ears. >Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste. >Bless touching. > >You could live a hundred years, it’s happened. >Or not. >I am speaking from the fortunate platform >of many years, >none of which, I think, I ever wasted. >Do you need a prod? >Do you need a little darkness to get you going? >Let me be as urgent as a knife, then, >and remind you of Keats, >so single of purpose and thinking, for a while, >he had a lifetime.