A Secret Planting
For time out of time
I have plowed a furrow of words;
like seeds they have been to me
for I grew with them, and they spoke for me
when I fell silent
and could only scribble upon my breath.
Still and all, a symbolic forest
sprang up from these words;
from the best of them a forest-fire bloomed,
where the charred scrub crumbled into ash
new words were born
their meanings ever changing
and where they rewrote themselves
a green significance rose to the high treetops
fresh views appeared,
there each far-seeing word uttered
became one more step beyond the known.
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