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The night stars' crystals cling to my white
Like diamond dust illuminating
My length and breadth still shining with their bright.
I hear the loon, night owl and mocking bird consummate
My history, and my song.
My long past and present are buried within and out of me
Stirring others to awe and to attend;
To lengthen their stay, to designate, to send my silenced light
For those who see my ghosts of rays illuminate
Their valued wait on earth -- their waning stay.
I see within bold signs and dreams and generous lore.
I hear echoes of voices sea borne and saved,
With cries of the lost, in oceans beyond my sight,
Beyond my might of sound, of reach, of hold.
Echoes enclose their mist in trailing gray
To swirl and ascend the stairs; to descend with hope
And children sounds and adults' cautioned way.
A study of me and mine and clinging days between then and now
Give me distinction, a revered display
Of honed dead pictures that show their sharpened styles
Upon imagined sterns and visioned bows.
My tall and slender shape still lives
And thrives and instructs and shows
The exultant part of me
That is the thrust of greatness;
Of close infinity. |
