Sometimes I have poems for lunch. They sustain me for hours.
Here is the end of a poem called "Ode to the Present" by the Chilean poet, Pablo Neruda.
You
are
your present,
your own apple.
Pick it from
your tree.
Raise it
in your hand.
It's gleaming,
rich with stars.
Claim it.
Take a luxurious bite
out of the present,
and whistle along the road
of your destiny.
Here is the end of a poem called "Ode to the Present" by the Chilean poet, Pablo Neruda.
You
are
your present,
your own apple.
Pick it from
your tree.
Raise it
in your hand.
It's gleaming,
rich with stars.
Claim it.
Take a luxurious bite
out of the present,
and whistle along the road
of your destiny.