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Monday, December 19, 2011

THE CREATION OF THE UNIVERSE


















THE CREATION OF THE UNIVERSE


Make no mistake, The darkness

Will come to the perfect world.

These songs are but the wings that carry

Us into those green and breezy hills.


The red deer move on the top

Of the hills. Their shadows are

Bright yellow and look like flame.


You won’t find anyone if you climb

Up past the house and the barn,

Where the cabbage has been planted.

It looks like a bouquet for giants,

But purple with leaves big as

An adagio lost on a plain

Or a field of ice. We, yes, we, can

See you even there. See the sun

Is coming even at this hour to take

Itself from the tops of waves,

Huge sheets of light full from the

Leaves of trees. We wait by the camp

Fire, telling stories.