Finding Balance
Added 2021-05-17 00:58:40 +0000 UTCSweet, there is nothing left to say
But this, that love is never lost,
Keen winter stabs the breasts of May
Whose crimson roses burst his frost,
Ships tempest-tossed
Will find a harbour in some bay,
And so we may.
– from a poem by Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)
