the canon –

it is as though
every great and every good thing,
every bright and sunny warm thing
that ever was and is and ever will be
burst forth from inside of me,
to sing as though it had been born
and knew that it was so,

like some great breathed miracle
pouring from some new sprung well
struck open by a staff, and damn the consequences,
so that we might drink our fill and live –

if only for a moment