There's a secret that never dies Like a dance of hidden meanings that we never apprehend
There are questions just as old as time And the answers that come never quite make amends
Even so when you look at time You can get a subtle feeling of the way it ought to be
Take a good look at your own real life And you will see if you want what you've gotten to be
It's a hope a sign a measure of quiet rapture of love and what might come after
It's letting go and letting no answer be an answer

How did smoke learn how to fly? Where do birds go off to die?
Why does coal sleep in darkness? Do dreams live in apartments?
Is a number forever? Where's the soul of the water?
How old is old November? No one here can remember . . .
If I die, where does time go? Do the bees feel vertigo?
To get love, is there potion? Or is love only motion?


Holy lift holy reading Holy gift Holy needing
Holy sound holy waiting Holy light animating
Holy food Holy breathing Holy light interweaving Holy night Holy handwrite Holy flight Holy insight
Holy Sun Holy brother Holy moon Holy mother Holy dream Holy vision Holy scheme Holy mission
Holy one to another Holy me holy other Holy lives holy blending Holy start holy ending