The Sharp Edge of Cathedrals

Already I see the bells
and the sharp edge
of the cathedrals.

Am I flying?
Or falling?

I have turned my good intentions
into a memory of good intentions.

Well, I won’t hear my name
called out by some kind Old Man.

I did no evil,
nor wished it on anyone.

Well, I won’t hear my name
from the Lower Land either.

Am I flying or falling?
Or in this free soaring
am I doing neither?

Listening to the chime of bells
at daybreak,
these doubts
lose
every
possible
meaning
of their own.

I hear the sharp edge
of the bells.

2009