ON THE HILL OF ARBERTH
Shall we climb the yonder green mound?
Expand our view to the wide unseen horizon,
See wonders, see the unattainable brilliance?
I shall tell you a story where the darkness shines
As bright as the glory of day,
Where the horror shouts loud enough
To wake the doorkeeper between worlds,
Where the pictures come as clues to other strange things,
Where places reconstruct in cellular aggregations
Down the spine and the tides of new air
Tingles with the riddles of a new way
To lose certainty and find a better truth.
Rest now.
Time and space is full already with this world.
Watch as patterns shift.
In shadows and slowed moments
Other worlds can show themselves,
The other that is not the other.
( the woodpigeon’s grey cool song
And the deep green wind between the hills).
It is so full, so full.
Let go the river downwards.
Just below, just below the known
Are the vast halls of golden brocade,
The sapphire cool pavements, as it were.
Wait, unframing, un-naming.
Roads are small patterns of consistency.
Mingle the words of in and out.
Lay one on another without choosing.
Climb the green rise and see what might be seen:
Distance, shimmer, dazed,
What is there is elsewhere.
Soften and dissolve the sight –
That is the way, ( a voice says), to see outside.
The mirror ripples, water turns to rock.
The slow creatures stop to dream,
The warm air chants with bees’ hum.
One step without moving.
There is an art to it akin to drunkenness and despair.
Waiting, not wanting control, dissolving slightly,
Wavering a haze of possibility.
Silence. The deep is the dream
That dreams you here.
—
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