Herself

This is a beautiful except from Wallace Stevens poem, "Sunday Morning". It resonated with me and I wanted to share. We are so full of a range of feeling, and I encourage you to reach inside this reservoir, both personal and universal, and explore.

“Divinity must live within herself:
Passions of rain, or moods in falling snow;
Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued
Elations when the forest blooms; gusty
Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights;
All pleasures and all pains, remembering
The bough of summer and the winter branch.
These are the measure destined for her soul.”

--from Wallace Stevens, “Sunday Morning”