'Turn me into song; sing me awake.'

It's National Poetry Month. A friend of mine received this from them and passed it along:

Untitled [This is what was bequeathed us]

by Gregory Orr

An excerpt from How Beautiful the Beloved

This is what was bequeathed us:
This earth the beloved left
And, leaving,
Left to us.

No other world
But this one:
Willows and the river
And the factory
With its black smokestacks.

No other shore, only this bank
On which the living gather.

No meaning but what we find here.
No purpose but what we make.

That, and the beloved's clear instructions:
Turn me into song; sing me awake.