Standing signs and subtle flares
Too indistinct for mortal hairs
Gleams in mist on mantle fair
and more to link to thine own stare.
In my eyes a singe flint
A flame for all, or ones own stare.
How my eyes can sing my tune,
onward to my funeral moon-
in laughing sighs or winging high,
A faster glide drowns sacred tides.
Too fast to hear in ones own hall,
Though tide may bring it all ashore.
And clinging on I dine again.
No sign of dunes or longings fall,
no need to know the needs that bring
that onward fall to blight circling.
Reams of knowns, unknown to fault
how many times must we default?
from finest lines unknown to halt,
For thine own noon and ringing vault.
Cathedrals spin on centres tall-
Thy knowing grin unknown to fault.
How light they fling their sacred tines,
in blinding sight that needs no hind.
No limb to bring a dove so fair-
Too fair by far for hide nor hair.
I catch and glide from limb to limb,
I catch their breeze and climb from day and night.