('CoverPoem' For "Bells & Shadows"--1989 Bowhammer Cymbalom Album )


Deeper cultures called it SPIRIT  
pulled from first breath  
to a hushed pivot of wingspan, a high point   
of recovery over each life, a threshold of faith  
in the heart's final treasure, holding its own truth,  

its own measure of meaning: urgent, vivid as a myth  
or a cave mural: the voice we fell from grace with. . .  

it finally happened then: so much splendor went  
to waste in us that eternity called collect (imagine,  
the richest force in the universe!)  

Who knew what to do or say? 
a pittance of awe  
to pay attention with, & we still expected change!  

Change came. An age passed, dust settled:  
The first were last; a Bell went off  
and there came to our senses  
only shadows. . .  

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There's more where that came from!