He drifts gently in the rough canoe
Waving through the brittle sea,
Watching over the side shapes, fingers,
Form and change in languid water.
Somewhere, somehow, those shades have meaning:
I watch, to discover myself, to fashion
The image of a high grassy hill
Over a turbulent sea; above me here,
The grass shadows ripple as I tread their surface,
I am wind wide sweeping my creation.
This is my place, my farthest home:
I shall receive it seven times more.
Maui, come Maui, here, here it is
Your pattern, your life, the winds ripple
Like weeds in a stream, and your eyes
Find yourself there. This is your thought,
Your strength; this is your land.
- Brothers, no, brothers. - It is, yes it is, because
O player Maui
Your hooded hands
Remote, can move
The rain to call
In patterned voice
That darkness wove;
Like eyes, they stray
Beyond their bounds
And capture notes
Of ravelled thoughts
In constant sounds;
Their power lies
In their unknowing
Net of each
Vague ocean eye
Where sense is flowing -
- Enough, brother, enough! I have made this land
From my image, what I have seen exists.
Here is the place for me. But see
How it moves! listen to the echo
Oh, hear it, brothers: it is frivolous,
It does not care; here there is the voice of distant people,
Who will destroy my destiny:
page 30 They are my worlds sung awry by others...
'By the light of the green
Sugar of Babylon, every thick dream
Resounds in the fall
Of marmorial hall:
Then quick let us fly
From the butterfly's eye
Away from the glare
Of fritillary stare
And back to the night
With the wan grassy light.
- I see monkeys playing in the wind,
I see stone horses sitting on the window sill
And it is myself, still.
The soot is flying in the wind
And dragons' teeth with stones are filled.
Low I lie, a worm turned to the rain and hail
In a blown grassland -
Bells hang on the sky.
This peaceful pride forever ringing
Returns, in the cry of a breaking star,
To the smoke of these mountains.
- You are wrong, brother, this is not my image.
- It is late, let it be. Come home.