From “Song of Myself” by Walt Whitman

There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.

Urge and urge and urge,
Always the procreant urge of the world.
Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always
   substance and increase, always sex,
Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a
  breed of life.

(I wrote “Always the Procreant Urge of the World” in honor of Walt Whitman after reading these words.)

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From “Song of Myself” by Walt Whitman — 1 Comment

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