I lose and find myself in the long water. I am gathered together once more. - Theodore Roethke

I wake to sleep and take my waking slow. I learn by going where I have to go.
The Waking

Like witches they flew along rows,
Keeping creation at ease;
With a tendril for needle
They sewed up the air with a stem;
They teased out the seed that the cold kept asleep, —
All the coils, loops and whorls.
They trellised the sun; they plotted for more than themselves.

We breathe in unison.
The outside dies within,
And she knows all I am. — Theodore Roethke, section 1 of “Memory,” The Collected Poems of Theodore Roethke (Doubleday, 1975)