If, but a moment,
she's held by the air
steeping in the still light,
and decides it belongs not
to the bells or the Hands
of the wall or those to come --
but in hers.
If, but a moment,
she sees what's for
a thousand night's been sung,
And yet, it rests not
in the forms or firmament
pitched upon the dark of covered Eyes --
but in hers.
If, but a moment,
by her grace,
she may make herself
or more what she wills.
Then, but a moment,
may I be.
