Time came after us;
We were founders of the civility of the stars
That run in heavenly courts
Before there was a dawn.
Where the adjudication of the river’s
End, there too were my angels;
And was Her, who is I;
The We of wisdom; the All
That knows no life, but life is
Ours. Sorrow nests with laughter
In our houses; Grief is a toy
Of the child Avarice, and Jealousy
Drinks from the well Enough.
Silence is all, is noisome
And humble stirs in our
Hearts. Life is beautiful outside
the everything, and oh what an unending
Dance is the bright of our sun!
It is Fire inchoate that smolders
Beneath the treasure of our spirits;
And there beside, the Want of Making.
From silken sheaves of palpable
Love, sown through the utmost fingers
And fraying edges of it all,
Built humankind from nothing but ourselves:
She, and He, and I.
Oh we have figured gods:
Thousand beings manic making
From every first, until there are uncounted
Scraps of being. It is now said:
Time increased and hushed
The sour wail of divinity we sorely
Made and sorely did undo itself.
Again, the irksome Fire mustered as
She gave it constitution so to do;
The Word He issues rails forth,
Ushering out of Time’s right hand
Until the naked valleys rest in their
Green fatigue, and crowning trees, their
First campaign, shoot forth from bowels
In the earth. Oh righteous rain, you next
Shall swiftly fall! And every belly at your
Bow shall bend uniquely, every eye
Of water crane to see the making through
Some thousand colored hues. On
Lazy somedays the trees rustle
With the barking wind, and fill
The sentient sky with roaring laughter,
Bickering as sons and daughters do
Against the still.
Such is the product of the Will, Where
Stirs the latent spirit in the testimony
Of simple Nature. Oh, if we didn’t need
More; the promise of a creation made
With every capacity for the Fire we engendered!
For do trees bend before us as they wish?
Do rivers lap the verdant valleys in
An indisolveable font of grace?
But at our behest, should the Word usher,
So does the Natural being become,
Whatever it is once, whatever has been.
Ring ’round the sailing stars adot the sky
And even they marshal light years as
She dreams of them. Oh, for such an
Enfired figure of Us who would Us love,
To bow as it pleases Him,
To bleed for us as it requires Her,
Fashioned humanness which is pure and
Transient; relentless breed that tireless
Breaks forth into goodness of its own accord.
We cannot break a union which is one
In growing good earth, in growing good men
Yet instill the power of the Maker’s hands
And inerrant Maker’s voice. Singing sons
And daughters of Us! Praise is your capacity,
It is your skill. But We have uttered vanity and
Law to be your torch in the sometimes darkness.
Carry them as you will; and if your will to Us
will guide, death will relinquish Her dominion.
Always being is as We are; for We are as You shall be
Creator’s creation, made for a time the Master.
And Master: She, He, and I, so unified.
But Time conferred against the once-for-all,
Saying that humankind must forever die to itself;
Forever reborn to vice and vacuous desire.
Oh how we thwarted Him from suffocating Us!
For it is you who die, but however much, to Us
Will humanity charge—and into perpetuity
Resurrect and die, crawl forth into the nave of
The world, and, as dust, return therefrom.