WEBVTT

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I am beginning to hear
a voice in this life.

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I am living every day, every
night never before heard.

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Speaking in languages
made of shifts

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in the direction of the wind.

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Seeds fallen from an apple.

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There is a flight of arrows.

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Or is it light turning the way
things turn after the sun, only

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at different speeds?

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Brilliant darkness as in the
night when there is no moon.

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I must have known it once.

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As now moving easily as a
hand among the fiery lights,

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raining out of space.

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I know what is said, but
it is dark, untranslatable.

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A flower suddenly folding
up and rushing away

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into its ancient parchments.