You have spoken the answer.
A child searches far sometimes
Into the red dust
         On a dark rose leaf
And so you have gone far
         For the answer is:
         Silence.

     In the republic
Of the winking stars and spent cataclysms
Sure we are it is off there the answer
          is hidden and folded over,
Sleeping in the sun, careless whether
          it is Sunday or any other day of
          the week,

Knowing silence will bring all one way
          or another.

Have we not seen
Purple of the *****
          out of the mulch
          and mold
          crawl
          into a dusk
          of velvet?
          blur of yellow?
Almost we thought from nowwhere but it was
          the silence,
          the future,
          working.