I see you

I see you.

I see you – and what I see in you will do.

I see you for the sake of the grass, the acorns, the lonely mountain lakes, wood-smoke, the swift deer, the tumbling stream, the rot in the dung-heap, the worms sleeking through the clay, the clever crows calling end to day.

I see what your mother could not see, or if she glimpsed it only knew it as a facet of her diamond impenetrability and mocking bird song, and how it keeps you wandering, wondering, searching, fundamentally alone, flying from your home.

I’ll meet you.

I’ll meet you at the place where the rivers dry and oceans overflow, where men and women long ago parted and went their separate ways, missing each other and cursing their luck, before Tiresias’ curiosity led him up he mountain, took him to the brink of desire, to feel Athena’s wrath, to discover the other in him and to come back home again to see through the myth of our times.

I’ll play with you.

I’ll play with you in the garden where figs hang dark and sweet, where work has lost all meaning, where walnut trees abandon heavy fruits, on ground littered with apples and chestnuts ready to be lifted or to return to whence they came, where squirrels forget their shyness, where migrating birds both leave and arrive.

I see you

I’ll frighten you.

I’ll frighten you half to death the moment you think you know me, for I won’t be known, I do not care, I blow hot and icy winds draw into my vacuum, senseless waves crash upon my shores, willows bend and the slender spruce cracks, it is all one to me, so come unto me, become one with me.

I am ready for you.

I am ready, if you dare creep beyond the fear in your sinews, my body can enfold you, make you part of me, chew you up and spit you out and you become everything and nothing, then you can try to do the same for me.