What Is There Beyond
Knowing?
What is there beyond knowing
that keeps
calling to me? I can't
calling to me? I can't
turn in any direction
but it's there. I don't mean
but it's there. I don't mean
the leaves' grip and shine
or even the thrush's
silk song, but the far-off
silk song, but the far-off
fires, for example,
of the stars, heaven's slowly turning
of the stars, heaven's slowly turning
theater of light, or the
wind
playful with its breath;
playful with its breath;
or time that's always
rushing forward,
or standing still
or standing still
in the same -- what shall I
say --
moment.
moment.
What I know
I could put into a pack
I could put into a pack
as if it were bread and
cheese, and carry it
on one shoulder,
on one shoulder,
important and honorable, but
so small!
While everything else continues, unexplained
While everything else continues, unexplained
and unexplainable. How
wonderful it is
to follow a thought quietly
to follow a thought quietly
to its logical end.
I have done this a few times.
I have done this a few times.
But mostly I just stand in
the dark field,
in the middle of the world, breathing
in the middle of the world, breathing
in and out. Life so
far doesn't have any other name
but breath and light, wind and rain.
but breath and light, wind and rain.
If there's a temple, I
haven't found it yet.
I simply go on drifting, in the heaven of the grass
and the weeds.
I simply go on drifting, in the heaven of the grass
and the weeds.
~ Mary Oliver ~
(New and Selected Poems Volume
Two)
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