A god has the power. But tell me, shall a man
Wring the same from a slender lyre?
His senses are awry. And there stand no temples of Apollo
At the crossings of two heart-lines.
Song, by Your example, does not concern desire,
Nor pursuit and attainment of its object;
Song is - to be. Trifling for the god;
But when shall we be? And when does He
Alter the earth and the stars in our being?
This is not, my lad, a matter of your passions, though
Your voice throw open your lips, - learn
To forget that you sang out. That is fleeting.
True singing is breath of another kind.
A breath that aims nowhere. Pneuma within the god. A zephyr.
© Robert Temple 2010. Website designed by Jonathan Greet