On Singing Your Song

Two years ago, I came across a line from an old poem which punctured my present moment so profoundly that it seemed to stop time. On an average Tuesday, the poignant words of the late poet Oliver Wendell Holmes leapt off of my laptop screen and stung me like fourteen different bee-stings to the heart, causing a swelling of emotion akin to the crescendo of a long-forgotten symphony.

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