Sanctity


Sanctity

 

Whenever I have been

amid the dark hills that have no sorrows

and have listened to the birds

sharing their wisdoms with the stars

I know again

that even the rasped syllables of breath

have little to offer us

compared with that silence

that has no grievances,

compared with the slow progress

of the caterpillar

as he makes his way over a leaf

and I know, of course, that

there is no sacrilege in stone

and that the wisps of clouds

are hardly dynastic in their purposes

or greedy in their peregrinations

I know that nothing of the sort

takes place in the natural world,

which is why I have to come here

to be relieved of self-inflicted sufferings

and take in the air, to sing

with the whispering birds of night

and praise everything that hurts and

soothes us for its own blessed sake.

 

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