Flawed the diamonds of a foretelling
story
Glints of glass words woven in its
tapestries;
Still treasure’s stitched within the
invisible tale
In quick unfoldings of the cloth of
testimony
A spark! – And a glimpse of the horizon
land
That comes and goes with the light –
A meeting of reaching things in liquid
air –
In the silence the lift and the pull of
hands
And lights combining, and the span of things
Seen, as though through water – the
expanse
And in the blurring, the seamless extent
of it –
An enlarging through the ways of mist
In the lover abiding – sight of the
Summer Isle
That floats and sinks at the will of the
wind
The Islet of Glass, through which the
future
Can be seen – and for those who live
there –
The past which made it
Clear as brightness on a night after
rain –
The Isle of the Sailing Moon in the Sea
of stars –
Conquerors are carried there at their life’s
ending
Not many can travel there and then
return
So empty is it of all tangle men cannot
see it
But it is not empty that they see and
miss it
Its direction can be found, even in dark
Winter
For those who know the way – how it unwinds
–
How, in truth, it lifts the buried and
buries the lifted
How quick the inner compass shows the
bright space
Which through pride’s thick skins makes
its finding!
The lovely thing’s done in those who dare
un-spin
*
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