Say my name:

I am the window, the face of the eye
staring at the birds whirling past
into the clouds spreading rain, hiding
the stars, the hands that burning keep me,
falling away from the stone and the trace.

Say my name:
I am the air that breathes cold music
into the met breast of the nightingale;
Listen to the song of the candle;
Lose yourself in the rose, that dark
Creched intelligence of the universe,

And say my name,
Tell me who I am:
You, who, have known me before I was ever spun.