All my life I have lived and behaved very much like [the] sandpiper -- just running down the edges of different countries and continents, "looking for something" . . .

It is like what we imagine knowledge to be: dark, salt, clear, moving, utterly free, drawn from the cold hard mouth of the world, derived from the rocky breast forever, flowing and drawn, and since our knowledge is historical, flowing, and flow.

The iceberg cuts its facets from within
Like jewelry from a grave.

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Icebergs behoove the soul (Both being self-made from elements least visible) to see themselves: fleshed, fair, erected, indivisible.