We like to hear such things —
a lonely wild heart
still reaching down to us
in boundless freedom.
*
Our threads from within
always want to go further,
fumbling for the innermost.
The innermost fire.
The innermost spring.
We will never reach it,
we couldn't handle it,
yet we go on searching,
dreaming about it, awake,
praising those who penetrate
in loneliness along the path,
one by one in darkness
-the dark they're fit to burst
for their lives!
Your hand trembling-
the lonely trembling
near the unknown.
*
To whom do we talk
when we stay quiet?
We need to know
on our known journey.
We need to know
so that it feels beside us
in the dark
as if a good friend were breathing there,
breathing deep into the nights.