Path

[Guest guest]

I only know this golden field;

these numberless heads of corn

swaying to my walking path.

I put a hand, fingers down into the corn

and they tickle

the whole worlds palm.

Somewhere someone is making bread

that contains this momentary touch

of my walking hand.

This path is the center of one golden field

the children call heaven and earth.

Everything that ever was and ever will be

is just this heart and its blood

making movement as a heart beat for you.

Here in the sunlight

there is no past or future,

and even more strange to relate,

there is no now, nor I

to make any difference.

I pluck a spear of grass

and place it between my teeth.

The sap slides down

the throat of my earth

to become a river in heaven.

love

eric

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