Through tattered sleep,
Through realities you can only make with words,
Through a long lost radiance touched once—
There are eternities to ponder
There are aeons left
The rainbow-self sights itself.
Oh so soft!
Goes the world.
Oh so slow!
Fall the words.
A ballet of blown leaves,
A flower springs from the hand.
In the ocean which leads to the Heart of the World,
All may flounder,
But all must surrender.