The Green Angel
You simply cannot. Once you have come out on the road
You cannot return. You cannot sleep either;
Sometimes it dazzles with colour. In the west perhaps
It sits, while you spy it from the east.
Your ear picks a note
Often before the sound
Reaches your hearing. You can hear,
For example, the depth of depths resounding
>From nowhere, returning to no place,
Though you can sense it running through
The tangled web of the senses.
You cannot, quite simply; it is no longer
Possible. Once you are out on the road
Best return to the sleep of closed lids.
You are smelling a blossom, and laughing;
Discovering at the edge of the far-away river meadows
Or forests hushed up in silence.
A place to sleep, to love, to tell stories:
But you cannot return to where you once started --