Below what we think we are
we are something else,
we are almost anything.
Below the grass and trees
and streets and houses and even seas
is rock; and below the rock, the rock
is we know not what,
the hot wild core of the earth, heavier than we can even
imagine.
Pivotal core of the soul, heavier than iron
so ponderously central;
heavier and hotter than anything known;
and also alone. —
And yet
reeling with connection
spinning with the heaviness of balance
and flowing invisibly, gasping
towards the breathing stars and the central of all
sunninesses.
The earth leans its weight on the sun, and the sun on
the sun of
suns.
Back and forth goes the balance and the electric breath.
The soul of man also leans in the unconscious
inclination we call
religion
towards the sun of suns, and back and forth goes the
breath
of incipient energetic life.
Out of the soul’s middle to the middle-most sun,
way-off, or in
every atom.