To go into the valley
Of veering shadows,
Of iron bands,
Of clamps and traps,
That shut and close
All round and round,
Is to forget the very stars of being,
To leave behind the sound
Of the peal
Of the bells,
To lose touch with the bright soul
Of the elephant,
Who walks on the bank
Of the river of peace,
Yet, only the blank
Face
Of death will die, in the end.
For there, within the lilies on the shoal,
Among the green reeds and glimmering shells,
Live the lands
Of many
Worlds, clad in clouds of beauty,
Dressed in the lace caps
Of the blue sea,
And the silver rings of the brilliant
Moonrise,
There, where
The voice of the mother of eternity
Is calling, clear
As the waters that bend
Over the stones, and so, to hear
The pure song
Of the mountain air,
To watch only
The mist-winged pair
Of storks who take
Flight over the dawn lake
Is to belong
At last to the shining
Skies
Of innocence, ever real,
Beyond the rift of time and space.
September 19, 2010