A Lecture From Heidegger

In a book on the essence of truth
I read, in the soul there is an aviary
or more generally thinking, a container

quiet and still, completely empty
it becomes gradually filled with the stuff of time
oh, and birds, various kind, of color and song

resonating in flocks far apart
from the rest of smaller and looser gatherings
and the solitary flitting hither and there

pondering Plato and possession
of knowing versus calling expressly to mind
subtleties, having-present or making-present

a longing to learn of what would be
found in philosophers view upon setting sights
on the space where birds once flew, through a cage door loosed.