Ode to Wordsworth
(In response to “Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.”)
We shed our translucent jelly shell
the malleable armour wrought to us
through rebirth
passing into fragile bodies
awakening into one realm
forgetting another
Asleep to the golden gates
the chorus of souls behind them
lives we spent in the heavenly void
timeless among friends and waiting
Eternally patient
to forget the Lamb
the light
the stillness
Asleep to one realm
awake to another
children of the wingless
the imperfect ones
who justify chaos
birthing from order
The pure open their eyes
to the blue-veined flesh
only to hear fluttering of wings
from the wind blowing dust
© 2002 Leslie I. Benson
