Statue Over the Sea

He held the world in its infinite closeness
Like a sphere into which he could see
The sky, the long line of the shore --

What were fingers to him? A body
Is a pillar in a temple,
One statue among rocks, mold

Truly made from a departing world:
Worlds that you hold when anxiety
Disperses like the waves,
There is the same froth
From which materials were drawn,
Ebbing into the vision that hides
Itself in crags. Sing one for the dawn

Because I wish I were among birds
When the first in an infinite series
Of lines settles over the body,
And the air opens into the sky.