Where swallows fly I follow
fast across the sky
Where
grey clouds sigh and send their sorrows
Secrets
hide – and set their silver strands in air
Aloft
they wait, while above a lake of glass I float
And
see the melding strands through melting mist
Pause,
and turn, and changing shape, form a map
But
not for those who test the waters of the lake
Little
ones alone have faith, and do not wonder why
Why
reject the song that seems to go against them
When
in its map the jewel had come to gentle them
Could
not the little lark take pleasure in the pursuit?
No
mean mountain can rise above the crystal sky
No
lovely Find can lift itself above the barrier skin
Nothing
of earth can live where the air is owned
Nothing
solid on stolen water can take a stand.
No
feet of clay can walk where there’s ‘nothing’ there
That
deep-lighted realm would not sustain the
Taking-breath
of any earthly life that wanted for itself
Life
above the barrier skin was rare, pure and perilous
Glad,
the cutting-away of the skin of flesh was ‘death’
For
joy the trysting-nest had hid in mist as ‘nothingness’
The
hidden wealth of secret places was all in dark –
Lit
where a butterfly’s quivering wing will stir the heart
Lit
where a dragon’s fiery breath will lift its sight
For
beauty’s sake the life was made quite secret
For
the good of all – the broken bread was made a stone.
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