I want to wake up in the morning
speaking in a different language,
a language of words that are not
like these words but are
like seeds, words who have been
held silent in the Mouth of Night
until they are new enough to
hold together in the morning.
And let the things of concern
not be clutched so tightly but
let them float loose, and
float loose away, the things
of worry, and busyness, and
clocks, let them float loose
away entirely.
And let these new words that
are born of the Mouth of Night,
let them show themselves shyly,
so only a sideways glance notices
that they are words that have
whole rooms inside, rooms and rooms
where the light glints on dazzling facets,
as though the softness of the fur of bees
is in them, and the way green boughs
hang over a slow sunlit river, that
is in them, and the sudden way
a flower releases its scent in the night,
that too is in them, and more also,
the way the wind currents feel
the caress of wing feathers flying,
the secret desire of all water to drink
starlight, all the doorways hidden
underneath an ordinary stone, opening out
forever, all in these words.
And so then let them fly forth gently,
and quietly, almost the way a dandelion's
seeds fly forth only in vast numbers and
with such far-flyingness, let them
fly forth and go forth and go
until they cover entirely this poor tired
sore world, until they cover it like a blanket
so light, of the lightest touch, almost
unnoticed, but let each one light down
where it will take hold, let each one
be a seed of the unimagined,
let each one open out unsuspected,
as though earth loves our feet,
as though the stars
watch over us tenderly forever,
as though we really do belong
here, as though
all will be well now.
~~~~~~~~~
Written November 2004, but it seemed a good time to share it here.
speaking in a different language,
a language of words that are not
like these words but are
like seeds, words who have been
held silent in the Mouth of Night
until they are new enough to
hold together in the morning.
And let the things of concern
not be clutched so tightly but
let them float loose, and
float loose away, the things
of worry, and busyness, and
clocks, let them float loose
away entirely.
And let these new words that
are born of the Mouth of Night,
let them show themselves shyly,
so only a sideways glance notices
that they are words that have
whole rooms inside, rooms and rooms
where the light glints on dazzling facets,
as though the softness of the fur of bees
is in them, and the way green boughs
hang over a slow sunlit river, that
is in them, and the sudden way
a flower releases its scent in the night,
that too is in them, and more also,
the way the wind currents feel
the caress of wing feathers flying,
the secret desire of all water to drink
starlight, all the doorways hidden
underneath an ordinary stone, opening out
forever, all in these words.
And so then let them fly forth gently,
and quietly, almost the way a dandelion's
seeds fly forth only in vast numbers and
with such far-flyingness, let them
fly forth and go forth and go
until they cover entirely this poor tired
sore world, until they cover it like a blanket
so light, of the lightest touch, almost
unnoticed, but let each one light down
where it will take hold, let each one
be a seed of the unimagined,
let each one open out unsuspected,
as though earth loves our feet,
as though the stars
watch over us tenderly forever,
as though we really do belong
here, as though
all will be well now.
~~~~~~~~~
Written November 2004, but it seemed a good time to share it here.
