Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Look, how tiny down there,look: the last village of words and, higher,(but how tiny) still one lastfarmhouse of feeling. Can you see it?
Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Stonegroundunder your hands. Even here, though,something can bloom; on a silent cliff-edgean unknowing plant blooms, singing, into the air.
But the one who knows? Ah, he began to knowand is quiet now, exposed on the cliffs of the heart.
While, with their full awareness,many sure-footed mountain animals passor linger. And the great sheltered birds flies, slowlycircling, around the peak's pure denial. - Butwithout a shelter, here on the cliffs of the heart…
