[First Post] 866
On the river, in standing sleep,
I count the years away
in deep reveries of things I would not keep
to see them home again to stay.
Returned, as if dried by the sun
and driven by the burning light,
would cloud and rain where they'd begun,
transformed in the chemistry of the night.
In the pool I see the sky,
miles beneath the earth and deep,
and count the clouds there passing by
to keep my thoughts from sleep.
And on the wind I hear the chime
of someone laughing in the green
and laugh along to pass the time
as rings return what I have seen.
And on the road I see the line
stretch on, as it might go around
all things I know in sight and time
and space and life and sound,
return again and say my name: Hello
you are a traveler from the past
going as the ring will go
around around and home again at last.
On ocean waves I feel the roar
of voices shouting, drowned, and mute,
who leave their flotsam on the shore,
a remnant of the once pollute.
And in my child I see the face
of what I was and wished to be,
and wonder how to find the grace
to tell her of the sea.
River, Ocean, Wind and Sky, carry me away
on the flow of all my wanderings
from a future that stands in sleep
and a past that swallows up the day.
I was the man who loved the sea
and blue sky and green living things
and lived my life as in a dream,
and never saw the rings.