The Passion and the Reason

Something sings in the building and builder,
Something rings in the spike and the wood.
Something sounds in air and the earth
Resounds in the hammer and hand.

I pulled you toward me this morning,
your head and neck on my chest—
a waking serenade, your puzzled
pliant flesh pulled from its pit.

Freedom from is not freedom to
stride in the sound of creation,
the forests shaking in the sound of your boots,
the mountains and lightning rejoicing,

I thrill at the vision you offer
I thrill at the vision we share.
At the moment of emancipation
the tyranny of orthodoxy begins

and that is the point of our unravelling
and that is the point of our joining.

© Dan Goorevitch, 2008