the Grand Belong

days fray

commercial chess

conquers Earth

even trees

ever-green

despair of air

i stay in quietus of

God in whom

there is no end

but only deep and

deeper still

to lose myself and all

my waspish will

Yes!  to sink

beyond the

wakeful world

slip and gleam

between the

shadows of the

Rocks

ah!  at last this

Jack-in-box

is stopped

what of those

Praying Hands

so bound?

i find a kneeling

more profound

keeling into space

that keeps me round

while hue-heart hymns

i weave in richly

silent sound

my heart sings up

to crest the air

i’m lost and

find myself

in shimmer tides

of prayer

such buzzy days,

all that heaves

lags and longs

all twitchings

wastrel words

tatty strips of song

are held to centre

burnished in the

Grand Belong

off the wall

by a.a. milne