The Declaration
Let the sea lock me,
let the wind rock me: I am.
Let the mountain fall on me,
let the stars descend:
I am, in this crooked circle
in this blaze of youth, dawn, decay,
war, fear, hate, lust: I am.
Nowhere, though I trod on the desolate beaches,
alone, naked, without friend
am I without this truth:
I am who was born.
Flesh, I feel.
Breath, I live.
Bone, I am real.
When all these fail: I am.
To the blue-veined moon,
to the blooming mists that spire
over the ocean shore, to the green
fields, clover and scent, earth
yield, and bush blown moment,
the crazy river, man and woman,
bird and claw—in the mire,
in deep woods, in the pleasures:
I am.
All must bend to this deed,
this life, time, dust and end—
end when no word speaks, no harp rejoices,
no sound translates dream to image,
image into beast, and butterfly, and lifting
of the beautiful eye—
I am, the woods sing
and the river runs, and the mountain and the sea
and man and woman and beast
was, is, will be.