Come, we shall rest here
a while
and slip into the quiet and calm
and peace of the hills
and the trees and the streams;
we’ll live into stillness and silence
and see what it is to die to thought
and to the day and night
and to each past and intention;
here we shall abandon left and right or center
and all the million causes
and concerns and justification and structures
that we always gave attention to;
we shall have natural pace here
at least for the while
and see what it is to be away
from the roles and formations we are seduced into
and to be dead to all things that form
human exchange and all ideas and established creed
and convention and sanctity;
and see what it is to be dead
to all things that **** life;
we’ll be here a while and possibly
for some time as it pleases one
and shall return perhaps not as the regular sun
but as a cloud unexpected, irregular and in its own time