Today, I am Ceres.
On loop in my head this morning is a fragment of Swinburne’s “Garden of Proserpine.” Winter is here, but spring will return. Today still sucks.
From too much love of living,
From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be
That no life lives for ever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.
That fragment somehow allowed me to feel today’s sadness.
Thank you, Laura, for sending out this sliver of light and hope on such a dark day.