That deepest darkest mystery
Is hiding everywhere
I met her
In the pleasure of the afternoon in an old blue house
Amidst the oldest hills
See! In dewy dog eyes
See! Whispered beneath the restless voices of the unhappy wise
Did I believe a mystery white?
A virgin Truth, a deep bright light?
The deepest darkest mystery
Is hiding in plain sight
I found her here
In the way we cut vegetables
In the way we washed and walked
In the way we read to each other over meals
Did I believe a search so deep?
An elusive Truth, did I conceive?
The clay is black not white
And Truth, she is the open vessel of the night
Sing to her in scented, starry fields of sunshine
Sing to her in tiring throaty trembling rhyme
Sing to her, verse for verse sublime
Read her truth, so Truth will chime
Did I believe an order kept?
A righteous Truth in ranks that wept?
I know black clay that shows
Black clay dark snow is everywhere
That darkest white shines in plain glare.
1s Feb 2013