Were just one thought floating through eternity
And that thought one other thought espied,
Just one person - you - thinking thoughts of time's paternity
Or unwedded mothers buried in the mind;
Where dreams go to die awakens immortality
If in the going there's a knowing of the why
Such a dim reflection in the heart's corporeality
As in our hearts that wayward thought seems more than oft' a lie.
My own that weaving seems all mine in all my fixed ways
Until one other person marks the time
That, in thou, seasons grow the lust of wayward days;
And happily she greets me in the thoughts that know what I'm
To friends that mind me easy and in them family's well,
For in thoughts that mean to keep thee, I there our true love tell.
We have already built the mansion on the hill
Read the golden plan't to which we give expression
Transformed into the quiet of the quill
And learned almighty God's own moral lesson;
That once aligned must once again align,
Aquarian silt still patterned on the Pattern
Of early dawning Vesper's pearly sign
In love by sea by sea alone knows Pattern
Upon pitter patter'd raindrops god of thunder,
I devote to thee the lonely moral of me;
When the eyes of fallen so, so are the stars asunder,
So from the turquoise sky I read that inward sea-
That is no shore that is not washed through stars;
That, through Invention's ageless giving, Rei spelled only ours.
What worlds born in the stars of heaven;
What stars have fall'n in love;
As though the painful birth of water melon
Breathed heavy metal from above.
Comet cupids rain on me
Like the acid from the silk;
Genesis of oxygen from the Faerie Mother's maiden milk-
If the heart's part be thy inward love of heart,
Clouds of infinite, if one, eternity,
My outward eyes for they do part;
Who live this constant vision of maternity;
Who practice with the bladder from above
Dreams uterine if only for our love;
In copses, crouds and clavicals, the lonely lover's art
- to being born.
As the trees bend and the leaves dance,
I am remembered the integrity of my self
Whereabouts I first felt the chance
To breeze across the tentacles of health;
This moment or the next o'er the memory of my heart,
Alone divine or in all ways divided
By memories not enough to make a start;
For there is a body more than mine decided
That I should only ever play a part.
And for this grace I think on you in whom
The memory of you is my olden womb;
A body more but never less divine
The wind that blows to thee to thine
Whom knowing you knows where to find.