Because I have seen

such small glory as heaven found

Lit translucent in the wing of a dragonfly serene above the dark pond depths

Lit gold in the sunlit pelt of that one white cat still beneath the tree

Lit in Spring's faint skeleton of Winter's fallen leaf

Lit in the fractal eternity of each flake that floats snow down

and know the pain each angel hears

Held in a single seadrop soft splashed on some high rock above the surf

Held in that single grain of sand that shapes the sloping beach or curving dune

Held in the horizon haze that surrounds my coast

Held in that seed on which all life is scribed

Held in the single tear squeezed from the duct

Held in each word locked behind my pen,

know that I shall probably pray that time dreams me more

and in that moment thirst for this man's illusion and that man's vision

for I can no longer sleep to sleep

to dream to write

of the mountain or of the desert or of the sea, for the world holds

no words again