Oh, song of night, create outspoken day
And it shall spring from nothingness the way
That all-that-is is only for its not.
For this we know, thought it was never taught,
That in sweet bloom, the fruit begins to rot,
The bubbling stew contained by metal pot,
And birds’ free flight informs our earthiness.
What’s more is more when something else is less,
See, in some hurrying figure, stillness lies.
The largely laughing man hides infant’s cries.
Clean mountains draw from clustered dusty plain,
As sanity builds walls with the insane.
So sing! Spontaneous dream in unfelt, unknown night
Begins the world again; from dark flows light.