h1

Prophecy

He told us before we left that room
with its Caravaggio posters, copies of Hamlet
stacked on the out-of-tune piano, bold self-portraits
in green and magenta spattering the walls,
the Globe Theater in popsicle sticks and straw –
that one day nothing we did would seem of value,
that it would be all we could do not to collapse
under the weight of the world. And when
this happens, he said, do this: walk outside
onto the dandelion-freckled grass,
take a deep breath, and say to yourself,
it smells like rain. And that will be enough.

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