Out of the chaos and muck order forms:
Out of randomness and misfortune fertility.
At the edge of society I clear a path,
but don't know where it could lead.
Following it, I come into my self, yet
my destination is anybody's guess.
I am drawn to it as to the distant
drumming by a waterfall.
Is this drumming
from a clearing in the land of the living
where families celebrate life's flow
and new partners find each other?
“I don't know what the ancients knew:
I only know what others know.”
Or is waterfall one of exquisite beauty
awaiting my solitary admiration –
a place apart for communion with spirits.
“I have no common knowledge:
yet am in tune with the ancients.”
Bringing together such temples in the jungle
and the wild celebration of being alive –
is the trick to be performed –
integrating the impulse to immortality
with the anarchic fullness of life.
If I express my heart I get no response.
I do not know whether people draw silent benefit,
or regard me as an idiot, not worth commenting?
It's safer to assume the second.
And so I make these public keys
to unlock whatever is hidden.
This dawn writing captures the life
which poetry distils, whose jewel is music
and whose children are my pupils.
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