Say your life had crumbled
with its wonder.
Say
that you had opened
to the spring wind, all of you
resounding with its power.
Say the days
had changed you
into this.

Listen, now. Unbroken choirs
are silent.

Lie down
like these old stones in the darkness.

I promise you
your life is not in ruins.

And if it is,
if all of you is ruined,
listen
to the cold wind in the open.

The truest
and most beautiful part of you
is the ruins through which mystery can sing.