As noted earlier, when I read works of prose, fiction and nonfiction, I keep an eye out for found poems. Here’s one from This Life: Secular Faith and Spiritual Freedom, by Martin Hägglund. The passage is a part of an analysis of Karl Ove Knausgaard’s My Struggle.

This Is Your Life

Evenings that no one else can remember

live in you, when snow touched your face

or the rain caught you unprepared,

when you were all alone yet marked

by all the others who have made you

who you are. There are things you cannot

leave behind or wish you could retrieve.

And there is hope you cannot extinguish.

This is your life.

There is nothing else.

— found poem in This Life, by Martin Hägglund (page 92-93)