With
a wisp child’s listening eyes
And
perceiving ears
I
knew
By
those senses – not my own
I lived
and slowly grew
And
heard and saw – the wheat
In
the silent pool
The
whirlpool – had wound
The
other way round
And
I – I had dropped to my knees
In
delighted wonder
To
see what the withering fire
Had
left behind it?
A full
ear of grain was there
Upon
the silver face
For
the work – by the fire
That
is above
Was
done
As
complete the live-green stalk
As
my unwinding was
From
moving with the winds
And
not resisting
From
speaking with the seas
And
not sleeping
The
completing
Of
my severed senses – resting
Upon
the pool – the reflected picture
Given
in the instant
And
rightly every seed aligned
Along
the live-gold – living stalk
As
sure – in their piercing work in me
As
a hundred spearheads
All
neatly tied together
Of
these living life-seeds – heart-jewels
Above
hundredfold
Were
given me
And
in each and every seed
Upon
one stalk
Source
of a hundred thousand
More
And
infinity – for those the air took
In
my every whirlpool . . .
A
whirlwind – undoing me
In
my every trial . . .
A
breakthrough – renewing me
In
my weighty ice . . .
A
fierce fire – melting me
Taking
me through
*
No comments:
Post a Comment