Spine straight as pine, breath slight as breeze, he sits
at ease, legs folded like some ancient sage.
He dreams of all the world’s infinities
that men of every age have tried to gauge.
Once wild as toppling cataract,
his mind’s now tranquil as a tree;
but to reach for eternity, he knows
those grand, sinuous roots must be set free.
Light floods over light as the mind dissolves
into an oyster-pearly, sea-foam white;
The soundless skies embrace the sounding seas
and all his eyes can see is bright.
Something wákes and walks him to the shore;
he strides now on the bottom of the sea.
(written in 2012)
For more about the poem, see notes.