I watch the shadows of the morning
conjoin the flat white globe of noon,
I watch the swallows’ silhouette
weave holy wakes
above the ridges;
Tilting, tilting.
The tongues of the passing torch are here.
The swara settle in like mist
and take their sacraments.
They settle round my house, and soon,
whisper as I smoke and sing:
Living darkness, living darkness,
take your part in this.
Tilting, tilting, tilting, till you
take your part in this.
He moved across the forest They moved across the forest It moved across the forest moved across the forest elephantly. across the forest under the autumn star the azure trees the fruit of rippling way
that beauty shadows on the grass moon; hand; dance come alive, remember you, remembered reborn, we cannot sleep dreams have no answer but deep, close to the heart they say be seen, dream with one anot
The sun someday will be love again. The mountain someday will be sand. The land in the end will begin again, and flowers grow out of its hand. I remembered an ancient poem, held under the tongue of a