Blowing down powdersnow from a pine branch
onto cold, light grey shadows; in the wilderness
(The verge of the ground a reminder of Our gathering.)
Gently gave Water and Wind Life to the cloud
meanwhile snow journeyed in a concern to remain
upon forest hills stones; to be glanced towards the edge
(Finding Now in the stillness,
in a fleeing movement:
All gone and awaiting time.)
Somewhat hesitant break runnels through the ice,
somewhat insolent, asking: When do We reach Home?
This so grievously lovable clarity’s Winterglade
is surely leaving its Answers in the abstruse
alike streamcaressed stones over the creeks have stayed
in the frozen years
Demand our new freedom, as all other time is stricken.
Seldom do futile words about love take on a living,
but leave in defiance its new ruins everywhere.
Listen in here carefully now, sneerlife;
Wrong in the head gives wrong in the eyes.
Right in nothing own rights to nothing.
Shut thereafter kindly your slow snout.
Advice on advice writes a starving harvest
wording a wisdom stolen from nonsense
wherein tiresome words are endowed pity
so like raisins showing the full grape vine
We know all too well that been and had are us a wretch to harvest
so keep all your filthy, wry-legged and weakmoulded words
where all regretted ”love” always takes its way home to be hated
Hear the laughter at your comparing of mutual infantilities to be sane
and find you thereafter that the will to your wrongs are missing here,
furthermore that more than love is not a mystery; The name remains.
Rip from its hold
that cleanest emotions have here too hard been used up,
that the fairest scum creeps in line before foulest!
Rip from its hold that suffering and death stand all near!
Take to its hold
that Honour will outshine petty survival,
that only Truth does own us in real Beauty!