Exposed on the cliffs of the heart

Exposed on the cliffs of the heart.  Look, how tiny down there,

look: the last village of words and, higher,

(but how tiny) still one last

farmhouse of feeling.  Can you see it?

Exposed on the cliffs of the heart.  Stoneground

under your hands.  Even here, though,

something can bloom; on a silent cliff-edge

an unknowing plant blooms, singing, into the air.

But the one who knows?  Ah, he began to know

and is quiet now, exposed on the cliffs of the heart.

While, with their full awareness,

many sure-footed mountain animals pass

or linger.  And the great sheltered birds flies, slowly

circling, around the peak's pure denial.  - But

without a shelter, here on the cliffs of the heart…