simonhlilly

THIS BREATH

No sign yet of dawn.
No stars, no moon, no light.
There will be snow on the hills.
It falls, a cold silence.
To wait and see or to return,
Turn away from melancholy, and sleep.

Weighted air drenches shape
But fills all voids with breath.
Warmed and fed, it leaves a small
Certain beauty.
This world, so drowned in joy
And despair, so nourished with dream.

A blessing sufficient for all:
One breath after the next,
Gift, and prayer, and blessing.

This breath:
The most simple,
The most honest,
An uttermost illusion
Of in and out.

This breath,
This sigh,
This stutter:
All the gods watch amazed,
All angels weep with envy.

This breath:
All prayer, all praise.
A river running.
( This valley of Time,
This birdsong of Space).

The only, the one thing,
Tying, holding, moving on.
An only movement,
An only stillness.
Elegance in evocation.

A transept, a nave, a bisection.
An echoed footfall,
A hearth,
A home,
A catacomb.

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