Shine

For if mine were a voice of the music of light,
and there on stony shores and craggy cusps,
and rolling sand on into sand with lucid touch
in kind - as lips abloom with starry lux; there would I
whisper-sing unafraid, beyond the shades of doubt
and death, beyond the lies of emptiness: the names
of all alive in me as wind rolls into wind, and
sea churns into sea; and the clarity of grain and grit
that yet becomes the gleaming glass should shine
throughout the pasture lands, and flower fields, and
shake the forests into dreamful shapes of songs
that stretch the wings of choral birds and beat
as bells affirming joy in buoyant boundless blue...
The lines that constellate my palm may quiver
as a string that shimmers certitude within the breathe;
and so it calls upon the base and treble both
to cleave into the breaking egg, to cleave into the
eyelids a-linger-floating on the dawn that circles
yellow and eternal as a gift to those: your own
songful lips - awaiting like the winged moth...

Come speak the silken coffin into remnants obsolete,
come bedazzle in the morning on the borders
of a brilliant bloom and dare to speak the name
that rounds the jagged tooth; that soothes the ragged
edge of thirst, and tames the restless wispy owl
wayfaring the darkness. Speak the name that lay on you,
as wind lay upon the shore with lucid touch that
wakes the sand in dreams of dancing as a daughter
to the music of a miracle. Speak the name to be the
name, and know that you are known; and should you
speak into your skin the same, light be yours beyond
the shades of doubt and death, beyond the lies
of emptiness.