Wait for evening.
Then youll be alone.
Wait for the playground to empty.
Then call out those companions from childhood:
The one who closed his eyes
and pretended to be invisible.
The one to whom you told every secret.
The one who made a world of any hiding place.
And dont forget the one who listened in silence
while you wondered out lout:
Is the universe an empty mirror? A flowering tree?
Is the universe the sleep of a woman?
Wait for the skys last blue
(the color of your homesickness).
Then youll know the answer.
Wait for the airs first gold (that color of Amen).
Then youll spy the wind barefoot steps.
Then youll recall that story beginning
with a child who strays in the woods.
The search for him goes on in the growing
shadow of the clock.
And the face behind the clocks face
is not his fathers face.
And the hands behind the clocks hands
are not his mothers hands.
All of Time began when you first answered
to the names your mother and father gave you.
Soon, those names will travel with the leaves.
Then, you can trade places with the wind.