The Immensity of our Night
Oh, in the immensity of our night
how can words start from our hearts,
words that speak of dawn, first waves,
leaf light?
How out of the wilds of our lives
are we to pluck the one tree,
the one branch of that tree,
the one leaf that has the sun
encompassed?
And how may our breath work
to word that solitude once seen?
The word that wakens, that shivers
in the temples of the blood,
before the first fire, the trampling multitude,
the forest thick with dreams,
before the wild streams, the lost lakes, the species
back of species where no night, no sun
was seen, but only immense dawn
drowning all darkness
on the edge of time.