Can I relinquish this view,
shrug-off silence and my eyes,
renew contact with the wares and pliers, deal
with the trade of the world -
those pots and pans beyond my  door?

I have avenues, groves, whole forests unexplored
that need silence, gloom
a single torch in a single room
one echoing step on the spiral stair.

I cannot bring you -
who  stand at my closed wood
strain your heart for my thought's ghost -
here where  cool air unrolls
the peaks glimmer
and rare flowers bloom  -
I am  lost

in alpine dreams
cold with dew, snow
frosts my  toes, my body rings,
ice-crystals cling to fingers, skin,
the dawn  streams lustrous, blanches me thin -

new  being of becoming
pink and warm,  all unfraught -
the uncanny  air bears angels
whose  wings are whirrings
voices bells, calling, calling
me  to rise, to excel.

Such  peace:
quiet peaks leaning in white air -
the eagles soar -
how  can I hear
the crackle of your auburn hair
the plain spade of your speech
the wooden  knock  you knock at my  far door?
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