The mother tongue 
Semblance to waking 
Semblance to moving 
Semblance to being over with 
The mother tongue joining of the [bad word] 
Mutter to the dream gutter 
The bar of light blinding us at the peak we wait for no longer 
Such speech in search of the dead 
Only one sound jumping up to thee 
They have sent me in search of the dazzling dead 
And their face is blurring into mist behind the hill 
Only one song, crazed purpose, enactment in the land 
What was granted on that first time out over the shadows 
They were filling every crooked palace of my eyes' hollows, that look and lunged 
On that first walk out 
What was spoken first was how all of this 
Every least part must be supernaturally clearer, illumined on eternal tables that shift 
What was spoken on the first part about the fresh, the vivid, the hole in the vortex 
Where worlds pierced ideas with an absolute embraced 
And allowed themselves to exist in beauty 
What was spoken from moment to moment, revolving in a clear space, without confusion 
And the doors opened 
The entire map appeared, plan of the whole 
Worlds appearing, crashing into perfection like unimaginable powerful and efficient weapons 
Stars consume us with longing, boulders reach for us like lovers 
And we enter singing; we have gone nowhere 
What was seen with a thousand eyes of us, at the brink of all 
Suns, glory of mists, cleared from the entryways across the valley floor 
And the keepers who wait at the gates of the plan 
What was heard in a skeleton's brief aria of obedience 
As its rainbow bones paid homage, wing-tip to wing-tip 
The ones of the ??? magnificent, crowding to catch with tender clasp 
My wisdom which never was 
To transport it, with all due pomp 
To a distant spot where it may revolve forever on its own delicate pivot 
In a style to which it is accustomed, safe from me 
Until time is no more 
And every gate to the plan and every threshold of every gate 
And every approach from the far places 
And every cloud that hovers above the plan, desiring wind and the gleaming sky 
Where will the cries of the astatic iron bird find us, now that we know 
And the shift has shown us, and we are walking with ourselves 
Into the shaking air needing nothing 
And all being has [bad word] as breath over the transfigured spaces? 
Into the house of the heart on that first time 
Into the plan, through the gate of the first time 
Throughout the land I saw you, whom my heart had never hoped to see 
And it was all fire, as the first drops of rain fell 
And the scents, sliding down the air of the million and one desires of the unnamed god 
Penetrated us, who are empty of all wisdom at last 
The gate of entry was passed 
And night fell over the dissonant ranges 
Here, where it all began, as the ground trembles 
The wraiths of what was un-god, anything before 
Bestows itself prostrate before us, prepared for annihilation 
Engraved on the ground where we walk is this warning 
"Everything is now destroyed 
Do not seek to be anything other than this 
You will be divested of every garment until none remain 
What is born must [bad word] whole by annihilation 
By the gates of the first time 
By the glittering flight of arrows into all twilights of knowing 
By the din of the waning light" 
What was spoken, what was heard, what was seen 
Beyond the shift