Always Remember To Marvel
Recently, I stumbled upon a poem that struck me. Technically, it isn’t quite a poem, but just a note, jotted beside a sketch in a book of poems my mother gave me, years ago. Now, the book—Leonard Cohen’s, The Book of Longing—is tattered. Its pages are dog-eared and inked with my own musings, and the note my mom wrote me on the backside of the front cover has long since faded.