Nothing is ever really lost, or can be lost, / No birth, identity, form - no object of the world. / Nor life, nor force, nor any visible thing;... / … - Walt Whitman

I Think it is lost.....but nothing is ever lost nor can be lost .
The body sluggish, aged, cold, the ember left from earlier fires
shall duly flame again.

If you done it, it ain't bragging.

O something pernicious and dread!
Something far away from a puny and pious life!
Something unproved! Something in a trance!
Something escaped from the anchorage, and driving free.

One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is myself, / And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or ten / million years, / I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait.