To sit and wait,
To set my telescope across
the expanse of night
and search for sights unseen
To sit and wait like some séance,
To hush ourselves and give over
to the mystic of old science,
of witchcraft and ceremony
To believe the impossible
is to close your eyes and wait
for the spirit to appear.
To do what is necessary and real,
to feel the shiver of the infinite
outside, far away:
To evoke this so that it animates
my limbs and bubbles my blood
to rush, to breathe again.
Here returns the old power,
the force of serpents and flames
about my feet:
To write, to be, to sit and wait.
Written after inspiration of Rilke coming off year-long slump of not writing.