My Own Name

My Own Name

I wind myself in braided vines

winds from the sun, and starry fields       

and clothe myself with woven sounds

that a royal child shields.

I seek to pluck the ripest fruit

whose coursing sap runs through my veins

and through the canopy of leaves

I'll sing the colours of refrains. 

Towards the meadowlands I turn

where wild flowers and soaring lark

spread fragrant air and airy song

above the azure lake. 

And I will plant a future glade

in raw grey earth and stable ground

and count the numbered grains of sand

and smooth the stones to pebble-round. 

The streams and rivers I release

to flow towards the mountain crest

where sun and moon will stand as one

and the winged horse finds its rest. 

Then garlanded with mountain songs

of eagle's cry and feathers roan

I touch the sky and voice at last

the name which is my own.

painting: Birth of Venus by Odilon Redon