careful, lightly, breathe only softly,
before you sighs the bones of a sacred quiet,
below you breathes a blue drained pond.
Look, the air is making water out of sunlight.
Listen, and you’ll hear breathing.
Here is a world of quiet sunlight,
olive groves stretching centuries before you,
a ruin deep inside the heartbeat of things,
the soul-sound quickening, the blood
and they will be behind you.
Is that your reflection breathing,
or a shadow
passing over the sun?