Silentium -
I was headed West,
in the direction of the voice.
I couldn't find the ends
To the town I once walked.
There was that dark cliff,
A lip poised above the water.
There was your face, happy,
Laughing at a joke;
You and I frozen there.
I take out my heart
From the drawer in the air,
And weigh 'feeling'
On a nickle-plated scale.
The cups are cracked,
The dishes still gleam.
Every little haunting voice is
Conveyor of these poetries--
Haunted by the Soul within.
Everything we know that means
The whiteness of snow in dreams.
And the dimness of morning.
I do not know, in the end,
Why the blue leaking light breaks
Over this faithful, crystalline.
I haven't found them yet;
The search for the Silent lands.
And the voices, when they are
Gone, even the memory
Drinking breath of Lethe ...
I was headed West,
in the direction of the voice.
I couldn't find the ends
To the town I once walked.
There was that dark cliff,
A lip poised above the water.
There was your face, happy,
Laughing at a joke;
You and I frozen there.
I take out my heart
From the drawer in the air,
And weigh 'feeling'
On a nickle-plated scale.
The cups are cracked,
The dishes still gleam.
Every little haunting voice is
Conveyor of these poetries--
Haunted by the Soul within.
Everything we know that means
The whiteness of snow in dreams.
And the dimness of morning.
I do not know, in the end,
Why the blue leaking light breaks
Over this faithful, crystalline.
I haven't found them yet;
The search for the Silent lands.
And the voices, when they are
Gone, even the memory
Drinking breath of Lethe ...
stops.
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