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lyrics

The Rhythm

It is all a rhythm,
from the shutting
door, to the window
opening,

the seasons, the sun’s
light, the moon,
the oceans, the
growing of things,

the mind in men
personal, recurring
in them again,
thinking the end

is not the end, the
time returning,
themselves dead but
someone else coming.

The little children
grow only to old men.
The grass dries,
the force goes.

But it met by another
returning, oh not mine,
not mine, and
in turn dies.

The rhythm which projects
from itself continuity
bending all its force
from window to door,
from ceiling to floor,
light at the opening,
dark at the closing.

credits

from Seven Short Poems by Robert Creeley (2016), released March 26, 2018

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Thomas Oboe Lee Cambridge, Massachusetts

Thomas Oboe Lee was born in China in 1945. He lived in São Paulo, Brazil, for six years before coming to the United States in 1966. After graduating from the University of Pittsburgh, he studied composition at the New England Conservatory and Harvard University. He has been a member of the music faculty at Boston College since 1990. ... more

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