Do not be angry
\nthat I write so much.
\nThat I rise
\nand look for a pen.
\nThat I do not know myself
\nwell enough
\nto live without words.
\nYou do not know the joy it gives me.
\nHow I wander from door to door
\nand it\u2019s only my poems
\nthat open them.
\nThat soothe the cold on my face,
\nstop me trembling with a chill.<\/p>\n
We are all lords of something.
\nI am a penitent.
\nI ask forgiveness for being given so much.
\nI can not consume a flower
\nbefore it\u2019s faded.
\nThere is a vast ocean of beauty
\nin the smallest blossom of a lilac,
\na bluet,
\nthe snow of a trillium.
\nBut I can only absorb a demitasse,
\na drop at a time,
\nand it\u2019s gone,
\nleaving me bewildered.
\nTemples,
\nthe vision of a street,
\nthe endless tract of forest,
\nan ocean,
\nthe sound of a shore
\nsticking like jewels to my palm.<\/p>\n
For them I write words,
\nput together a few poems.
\nI don\u2019t know what else to do,
\nexcept in this exasperating way,
\nI express my gratitude.
\nLike a bird
\nthat has flown over the universe,
\nand can only sit on one small perch,
\nand praise beauty for what it is,
\nand keep singing
\nuntil I can fly no more,
\nmy eyes filled with joy
\nto the last gleam.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Do not be angry that I write so much. That I rise and look for a pen. That I do not know myself well enough…<\/p>\n