Love of Wisdom

Philosophia Perennis:

I turned: quivering yellow stars in blackness   

I wept: how speech may save a woman

The picture changes & promises the heroine   

That nighttime & meditation are a mirage

To discuss pro & contra here is mute

Do I not love you, day?

A pure output of teleological intentions

& she babbles, developing a picture-theory of language

Do I not play the delicate game of language?   

yes, & it is antecedent to the affairs of the world:   

The dish, the mop, the stove, the bed, the marriage   

& surges forth the world in which I love

I and I and I and I and I and I, infinitely reversible   

Yet never secure in the long morning texture

A poor existing woman-being, accept her broken heart   

& yet the earth is divinity, the sky is divinity

The nomads walk & walk.

Anne Waldman.