We try

“where the hummingbird, wherever there is a fuss,
just rises and floats away”

—Mary Oliver

To make the attempt
at something more
than the least and the longing
somehow to venture upward
into blue fine ethers
where wanting is not misfortune
where time does not steal
where happiness is an aching
and the shine of history
turns new and nubile
every morning by sunlight
spilling over sunlight
and without lament

to be whole and seeing
full of conflicts that echo
other conflicts gently
and add illumination
like first light whistling
slowly through pine needles
daring phosphorescence
to make destitute
unstructured ages into speech
a luminous far-ranging wonder
upwelling into substance
as if rewriting
origins now and future

we aim beyond fear
beyond worry and isolation
beyond thrushes’ lilt
and wave functions
we aim to achieve
the music of the dream
the melody requiring
no shock or circumstance
or preparation or reward
the whole truth rendered
quietly naturally
unpretentious and glistening
at the edge of the center

of all other ways of seeing

we try
to be song
and to persist
in spite of the endless sea

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