A Spirit That Needs Nothing
( after Wendell Berry )
And the gods are loose their powers,
and have nothing to guide by in their folly.
So piteous their pride, forgetting how it was.
They have nothing to free us from ourselves.
The aura divides, the fire eats the seasons,
turning us from false oaths and rites
that make it worse by which we embrace.
Abandon what we knew by Nature’s instincts
that now burn the scrolls of the temple,
that deem we lose our way, for nothing is simple.
So it is written where it cannot be seen.
The time is autumn in its spring —
To leave the fire’s ravage is to release
the prideful gods so we may hear
the song of the concealed making things right.