She sings

Severities of daylight mark my eye
yet still she sings, in airy consciousness,
as if a distant bell, struck in the night, 
was ringing me awake with its old cry 

to beauty, breaking out beneath the seen,
with music of a tender, healing kind,
adorning all of Earth’s appearances
with hands that wait outstretched for love to find

the place where my affection holds its course-
unwounded, while the brutal tug of will
secures itself with bright seductive chains;
I feel those slackened links upon me still,

yet dullened is that glinting of before-
the clinking shackles soften as she sings
somewhere above the startled waning world,
wherein we stare into the lives of things.