House on a Hill

In this house on a hill

Where I've come to see

What is real?

All I find is illusion

Urgently she sees spring grow

Build to a stream

And it flows till autumn falls

Golden leaves, a silence scolded

Men nearby drain fields hopeful for all they yield

Not wondering why the days end

With the sun in the west

At night I hang from the ledge

By moon, by Pleiades

In all, a shining mystery

In this house on a hill

Where I've come to need less

And many more will