Song for the morning

I sung you once, I sung you twice, I'll sing you three times more.

Oh, my dearest, honest breath, can you not leave that alone?

I don't know what you hope to find there, what you couldn't find before.

Oh, my heart, my starveling brain, be quiet. Be still. Come home.

What does it matter, truly, if the sparrows find you gone,

If your shadow never falls there, if the seasons have moved on,

If you came here for a reason but the reason's been withdrawn,

Oh, my little, ugly faith, my cold and lonely bone.

The sun won't fall. The rain won't shine. The dust won't grind to stone.