Destroy me star
-says the poet-
pierce me with distance’s arrow
Drink me source
-says the drinker-
to the dregs drink me to nullity
Let sharp eyes deliver me
to devouring landscapes
Words meant to save the body
may they bring me precipices
A star will sink its root in my forehead
the source will lend my face humanity
and you’ll awaken silent
in the palms of stillness
at the heart of the thing.
Zbigniew Herbert, ‘Lines of a Pantheist’.
