“In minor errors, let it stand.”

Making sense, revealing truths,
star gazing in the deep divide,
placed in our own interests,
to live our own lives.

Half blind poet,
a larger season shifts again,
and love that gave you words
finds good friends.

Go under the processional arch,
go under the bower of Spring,
the gods are well pleased,
the harbour and sky spin full of air,
a serpentine river rides the plain.

Life poured into us,
its purpose in the universe of stars,
all this is known, the tug of deep fathoms,
earth in its folding compass,
conversations each to each,
time grown out of place,
words in their own way,
you wrote yourself,
you wrote the balance of the day.

The road is narrow but desire is wide,
welcome all comers, under the arch of flowers,
all I found was happiness, in a common land.