KEY EIGHT
(Iona)
The heart beats
Then it stops
Then it starts again.
How strange!
The eye that is
The organ of understanding
Is the well
From which fall tears.
Storm clouds rush in,
Salt on the air.
Amongst the leaves
A thrush singing:
Listen, listen, listen to me.
Beauty, beauty, beauty.
No heart can overtake
The long passages of time.
Beauty dissolves.
Kings, saints, seasons, tides
All vanish, vanish
Into the hollow hills.
The hollow hills
Will vanish into the sea
And sunset.
The eye
Forever bathed in tears,
The heart that starts
And stops –
The thrushes song.
The clouds
Pass over:
Sunlight
On the mounds of the dead,
Dancing with the eternal dancers.
—
simonhlilly 
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