A Blessing in Disguise

        Yes, they are alive and can have these colors,
	But I, in my soul, am alive too.
	I feel I must sing and dance, to tell
	Of this in a way, that knowing you may be drawn to me.
	 
        And I sing amid despair and isolation
	Of the chance to know you, to sing of me
	Which are you.  You see,
	You hold me up to the light in a way
	 
        I should never have expected, or suspected, perhaps
	Because you always tell me I am you,
	And right.  The great spruces loom.
	I am yours to die with, to desire.
	 
        I cannot ever think of me, I desire you
	For a room in which the chairs ever
	Have their backs turned to the light
	Inflicted on the stone and paths, the real trees
	 
        That seem to shine at me through a lattice toward you.
	If the wild light of this January day is true
	I pledge me to be truthful unto you
	Whom I cannot ever stop remembering.
	 
        Remembering to forgive.  Remember to pass beyond you into the day
	On the wings of the secret you will never know.
	Taking me from myself, in the path
	Which the pastl girth of the day has assigned to me.
	 
        I prefer “you” in the plural, I want “you,”
	You must come to me, all golden and pale
	Like the dew and the air.
	And then I start getting this feeling of exhaltation.