Having come to this place
I set out once again
on the dark and marvelous way 
from where I began:
belief in the love of the world, 
woman, spirit, and man.

Having failed in all things
I enter a new age
seeing the old ways as toys, 
the houses of a stage 
painted and long forgot; 
and I find love and rage.

Rage for the world as it is
but for what it may be
more love now than last year. 
and always less self-pity 
since I know in a clearer light 
the strength of the mystery.

And at this place in the ways
I wait for song,
my poem-hand still, on the paper, 
all night long.
Poems in throat and hand, asleep, 
and my storm beating strong!