Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.

When When it’s over, it’s over, and we don’t know any of us, what happens then.So I try not to miss anything.I think, in my whole life, I have never missed The full moonor the slipper of its coming back.Or, a kiss.Well, yes, especially a kiss.

On the beach, at dawn:Four small stones clearlyHugging each other.How many kinds of loveMight there be in the world,And how many formations might they makeAnd who am I everTo imagine I could knowSuch a marvelous business?When the sun brokeIt poured willingly its lightOver the stonesThat did not move, not at all,Just as, to its always generous term,It shed its light on me,My own body that loves, Equally, to hug another body.

People do it,some out of desperation,others out of greed.They steal.The very powerful and clever might steal a whole house,or a million dollars.It's been done.But what does it matter?Love is the one thing the heart cravesand love is the one thingyou can't steal.

EVERY DOG’S STORYI have a bed, my very own.It’s just my size.And sometimes I like to sleep alonewith dreams inside my eyes.But sometimes dreams are dark and wild and creepyand I wake and am afraid, though I don’t know why.But I’m no longer sleepyand too slowly the hours go by.So I climb on the bed where the light of the moonis shining on your faceand I know it will be morning soon.Everybody needs a safe place.

I wokeAnd creptLike a catOn silent feetAbout my own house-To lookAt you While you were sleeping,Your hairSprayed on the pillow,Your eyesClosed,Your bodySafe and solitary,And my doorsShut for your safetyAnd your comfort.I did thisThinking I was intrudingYet wanting to seeThe most beautiful thingThat has ever been in my house.

The GiftBe still, my soul, and steadfast.Earth and heaven both are still watchingthough time is draining from the clockand your walk, that was confident and quick,has become slow.So, be slow if you must, but letthe heart still play its true part.love still as once you loved, deeplyand without patience. Let God and the worldknow you are grateful.That the gift has been given.

And it is exceedingly short, his galloping life. Dogs die so soon. I have my stories of that grief, no doubt many of you do also. It is almost a failure of will, a failure of love, to let them grow old—or so it feels. We would do anything to keep them with us, and to keep them young. The one gift we cannot give.

Listen, whatever you see and love—that’s where you are.