#25 Turning Turning
How is it these stars rise, or seem to,
at the golden bird's falling.
How is it the moon brightly dances, or seems to,
when sets he to flight and to never return.
The Earth, turning, turning, it teaches.
And I, student, practice my forms for advancing.
First walk - a slip - crawling
- yet forging on as
the star rise, the moon dance, inside of me turn.