Sad to learn that the American poet Mary Oliver has passed away. I always enjoy her keen obervational poems that show her high attentiveness to the natural world. Read some of her poetry on the Poetry Foundation.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world
From “When Death Comes” - Mary Oliver
Just love this picture of Moai at Rano Raraku, Easter Island by Horacio Fernandez, how they are just scattered seemingly randomly and half disappearing into the ground. Reminds me also of the poem Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley.
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;