A constellation
of ancient glimmers
they swirl
as mine fall
to blissful eternity.
Juniper-smoke
Fire at dawn
Buds of oak
I rise with the flame
Embers far from my reach
Embers close to my breath
And yet, my ribs burn
They ache so
And yet, my ears long
For the beautiful ring
O, Time!
Lo, her grip unfazed
Mine drum parted
O, two sacks away
Two sacks of pods,
Of seventeen thousand pods!
Of such many pods,
From four hundred arrows!
Pales the night
bejeweled, dazzling
Pales to his eyes
Those gardens of juniper
those fires of oak
O, inflame me in awe
his eyes, blazed umber in flesh
a labyrinth of lights
lost and glad.
Here I am, upon the vast mantle
the blue expanse, ever-moving
It is fitting you dwell there
upon the rise of the sun
in isles of green wind
I melt into its surface
imagining you too take me
in a brisk, wide embrace
interred upon your dance
I become a wave past this coast
whose crest rises towards the sky
that abode of the Prince of Days
its crash intones songs of your praise
running as wind, as the false-crow
Noontime light becomes comfort
no longer fire upon my hide
Grass groweth upon its sunken bed
Carried yonder by motions unending
Soon, soon
Its long walk will end
Taken to an isle strange
where the sun first wakes
Taking root in his crevice favoured
Awash upon the moonlit sand
the wave becomes foam
Soon, soon it hopes
to swathe another
To cloak the sun
A promise unwavering
witnessed by this sea
Morning-star, you who became flame
upon these bright waters
I rise my sentiment
that you order the skies, Evening-star
that the bush at last blooms
that the river again flows
that the wind shall move
that the little wave, at last
will get to see the sun