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
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
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
*
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