Who
is all fire and wings and hearts and seed?
Has never ended, yet always starts
afresh when the wind changes?
Who gave and changes everything we need? Who,
with all water, weather, ground and spaces,
and many coloured eyes of stone,
leaf, star,
won't let us rest in them, but instead
drops dead, stands
attentive, raves and races? Who
makes all we joyfully, painfully love march away?
and will one day help us
out
in a blink, before we are at last wise,
with a present too suddenly big to
hold,
think of, or see, or say? |