The moon so fast, the clouds so still
Cracked like silver mud
Or the tiles of that old church ceiling, I slept under when I was young
Come to think of it the leaves are stirring in a sermon
Swans out on the Mystic, other moons, asleep between their wings
And everything more beautiful, the quieter I become
Many births the world gives us: water, egg, womb, and the miraculous
What once were lost years seem a blessing to me now
Deepened by the blade of sorrow
Prepared my body for this greater love
And everything more beautiful
This morning through the prism all these colors on the ground
I climbed into that light and I just lay down
Everything
I dream you lean your face on mine, and all our eyes align
Many teachers, desire among them
Spark to light the better fire
And everything more beautiful, the quieter I become
Cracked like silver mud
Or the tiles of that old church ceiling, I slept under when I was young
Come to think of it the leaves are stirring in a sermon
Swans out on the Mystic, other moons, asleep between their wings
And everything more beautiful, the quieter I become
Many births the world gives us: water, egg, womb, and the miraculous
What once were lost years seem a blessing to me now
Deepened by the blade of sorrow
Prepared my body for this greater love
And everything more beautiful
This morning through the prism all these colors on the ground
I climbed into that light and I just lay down
Everything
I dream you lean your face on mine, and all our eyes align
Many teachers, desire among them
Spark to light the better fire
And everything more beautiful, the quieter I become