12.29.2010

The Song of The Poet at The Face of The Deep

it is addressed thusly:
A song.
it reads:
"There are many things I have yet to tell,"
Said the poet to the wishing-well
"But I have no coins with which to ask,
I have only words to fit the task."
But from the well there was no reply
Only on the breeze was heard a gentle sigh.

"My first wish is for a silence deep,
A spirit for the secret I have to keep.
For my lips to weigh as milling-stones
So I may hear the spheres, their sounding tones."
But from the well there was no reply
Only on the breeze was heard a gentle sigh.

"My second wish is to be all alone,
With but a rooftop for my home
For as the sparrow like this remaineth fed,
Grant poor solitude to be my bed."
But from the well there was no reply
Only on the breeze was heard a gentle sigh.

"My third wish is stillness of the dead
Still like the lake mirroreth overhead
The clouds and birds and mountains and the sun
To not stir from the charms of anyone."
But from the well there was no reply
Only on the breeze was heard a gentle sigh.

And three sounds like stones were heard therein
Though not coin, nor gem were found within
For adequate words weigh like rocks when hurled
They drive them to the center of our world
But from the well there was no reply
Only on the breeze was heard a gentle sigh.

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