I will grow myself quiet leaves
in the diffiicult silence of chastity.
I will hide in the immense namelessness
though each tree murmurs to him my name.
I am the bed of leaves he can never scorch,
not even with his eyes of fire.
I am the naked face of the flower; a cross.
He cannot escape by reaching me.
The god and the goal; the lover and the loved;
the pursuit and the flight, entwined.
Though a god, he will die in the depths of my bark.
I will glisten his face on my leaves.
Every eagle will have his eyelids.
Every event--his speed.
Each one of the thousand suns
will pursue me as he has chased.
Each one of the symbols of silence
will learn his name I refuse to bear.
I am he: the sun, its immense bowl
pouring out selves as from a fount of chastity.
He is I: the ever-green song in flight,
the sun forever pursuing me.
