O when I turn the air about my tongue
Into a set of shapes and collections
Of sound that are interpreted by grammars
Someone supposed many quick Moons ago;
O when a spirit moves into my body
As if it were the air drawn through a flute
Resounding; when I don't know who I am
Is when I voice the most marvelous music.
"Give me life!" a flower begs the Sun
When she is opening a dozen petals
To that wild proliferation of light;
I realize a rose. Make sense of love,
Make love of sense, make fun and when we're done
We're held by a simple conversation.
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