Earth bursts forth into consciousness
wherever she can
every inch of rock dust
whirled into life
or curled into the protective
shell
of some animate
thing
It’s amazing
the swirl of
endless forming
& even more remarkable
that abundance,
the Riot of Spring,
those trillion-trillion-trillion buds,
we call
peace
while man’s expansion of his own devising
the rollercoaster of his endless toils
devoid of partnership with
God’s creation –
that
is noise
which hurts not only
our hearts, but the living earth
itself, that kills the greenfinch &
the wild daffodil.
OK,
you can say –
this simply isn’t so ,
that all is exactly as all else is
us included
& our doings
simply fulfil
the same
well determined
ways
of everything
to unfold according
to the bag of
chance
you’re right
- in so far as you go –
but for all of that
there is no truth in you
& your words travel nowhere
except to depression & destruction
wrapped in
clothes of certainty
All that you say works,
but therein lies its first great flaw -
for the universe
is so immeasurable
by what can be known
only the truth
of all that is contrary
can begin
to touch
its wildest reaches,
only the things
for which there is no definition
that are free
& floating
can lead us
to equilibrium &
the balance just beyond
the cliff-fall
It’s the truth that
doesn’t control,
or explain away
the living fear and exaltation
the confusion
that grips us all
the truth that
must be talked to
by means as odd
as it is also odd.
Let us be
danced with,
sullen, would-be lovers
that we are,
’ere we set out
to rule the floor.