Where is that mysterious country
\nwhere I do not know myself?
\nWhere I am unguarded.
\nWhere fate pours me from its glass
\nand I recede into the walls.
\nWhere nothing is locked.
\nWhere the ceiling sails away like the moon,
\npossessing its own light,
\nand I tremble in a room
\nwhere nothing is sure.
\nWhere my eyes are useless,
\nand my life belongs to the wind,
\nto things calling in the distance,
\nto footsteps that never approach,
\nnever go away,
\nand stories play out their themes.<\/p>\n
Where grief has left me calling out forever,
\nto things wistful as a fog,
\nand my heart lies on the ground
\na shattered dove.
\nOr countries I have never seen,
\nwith languages not my own.
\nCloth spun on looms fine as a web,
\nstars tangled in its weave,
\nwith the touch of grass,
\nlustrous as dew,
\nthe color of a meadow.<\/p>\n
So it is I dream of things
\nthat tangle me in lighting,
\nin plays not written for earthly halls.
\nAll rushing into silence,
\nto the heavy breathing of my fear,
\ncaught in the blankets,
\nmy eyes staring at the wall,
\nin cold relief at waking.
\nThen with a sigh I close my eyes
\ndropping back into sleep,
\na prayer,
\nthat I be delivered to dawn,
\nin one piece,
\nfrom the vast sea of creation.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Where is that mysterious country where I do not know myself? Where I am unguarded. Where fate pours me from its glass and I recede…<\/p>\n