No other shore, only this bank

On which the living gather.

On which the living gather.
On which the living gather.
No meaning but what we find here.
No meaning but what we find here.
No purpose but what we make.
No purpose but what we make.
That, and the beloved’s clear instructions:
That, and the beloved’s clear instructions:
Turn me into song; sing me awake. —Gregory Orr
Turn me into song; sing me awake.
—Gregory Orr

2 responses to “No other shore, only this bank”

    • Isn’t it great? Here is the full poem:
      https://poets.org/poem/untitled-what-was-bequeathed-us

      Untitled [This is what was bequeathed us]
      Gregory Orr – 1946-

      This is what was bequeathed us:
      This earth the beloved left
      And, leaving,
      Left to us.

      No other world
      But this one:
      Willows and the river
      And the factory
      With its black smokestacks.

      No other shore, only this bank
      On which the living gather.

      No meaning but what we find here.
      No purpose but what we make.

      That, and the beloved’s clear instructions:
      Turn me into song; sing me awake.

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