Everything is ceremony in the wild garden of childhood.
You are like night, calmed, constellated. Your silence is star-like, as distant, as true.
White bee, even when you are gone you buzz in my soul You live again in time, slender and silent.
Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank!
As if you were on fire from within. The moon lives in the lining of your skin.
We open the halves of a miracle, and a clotting of acids brims into the starry divisions: creation's original juices, irreducible, changeless, alive: so the freshness lives on