The moon so fast, the clouds so still Cracked like silver mud Or the tiles of that old church ceiling, I slept under when I was young Come to think of it the leaves are stirring in a sermon Swans out on the Mystic, other moons, asleep between their wings And everything more beautiful, the quieter I become Many births the world gives us: water, egg, womb, and the miraculous What once were lost years seem a blessing to me now Deepened by the blade of sorrow Prepared my body for this greater love And everything more beautiful This morning through the prism all these colors on the ground I climbed into that light and I just lay down Everything I dream you lean your face on mine, and all our eyes align Many teachers, desire among them Spark to light the better fire And everything more beautiful, the quieter I become