Blog o’ Gnosis

Let us all bow down to Black Oak Books in Berkeley, where on a chance foray this afternoon I came up for air clutching gold in my stubborn hand. And the gold reads like this:

O wild angels of the open hills
Before all legends and before all tears:
O voyagers of where the evening falls
In the vast August of the years:
O halfseen passers of the lonely knolls,
Before all sorrow and before all truth
You were: and you were with me in my youth.

Angels of the shadowed ancient land
That lies yet unenvisioned, without myth,
Return, and silent-winged descend
On the winds that you have voyaged with,
And in the barren evening stand
On the hills of my childhood, in whose silences,
Savage, before all sorrow, your presence is.

– Ursula Le Guin, Wild Angels, 1975

This entry was posted on Saturday, September 9th, 2006 at 10:56 pm and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.