The Melody

Oh tongue
Thy tongue
Eternal strains singing
Unperceived rhythm
Of muscle and tone
Soul's rhythm wrought by hands unknown
Stir waters of space
Firmament unsettle
And form

And in lucid moments I hear the melody
To mora, to syllable, striated sentence
Handed down
Handed up in mystery
Of the meaningless
Idle talk:

Sacred circle
Upon the circle upon the rime
That my tongue is sung
But to sing
Of thine