Don't be afraid
Where´s the end of it, this black street? `It goes nowhere.´
Thanks, though, for coming along just a little way.
`And thank you, for veiling you face and breathing softly.´
Neither is speaking. Yet someone is — perhaps the gateways?
The birds were startled to the forest or the rocky islets.
There´s no night, no time, to tell the hour of day by.
The moon´s there, the sun, and stars. In the bowels of the earth
the undergrouns rumbling. A heart — in your breast
or mine? — is beating sixty, then three thousand
six hundred times.
So time is: but it´s over horizon, beyond the known, a sort
of Chinese Wall, Andes, or the Great Monolith of Heaven, and
it doesn´t move, it´s the unspeakable depth or surface
which won´t surrender to thought and the cannons of fear