I am a lock. Your name is a silver key that I carry folded in my breath (exactly as a child-- devoted and shy and already hearing the first music that will open him-- carries a coin to church in a bright silk handkerchief).
Only where there is language is there world. --Martin Heidegger
The word that fits would mime the genesis. --Michel Deguy
Orpheus. Eurydice. Hermes.
... that a whole world of lament arose, in which
all nature reappeared: forest and valley,
road and village, field and stream and animal;
and that around this lament-world, even as
around the other earth, a sun revolved
and a silent, star-filled heaven, a lament-
heaven, with its own, disfigured stars ...
Ein Klage-Himmel, "a lament-heaven," from Rilke's "Orpheus. Eurydike. Hermes." Poetry's post-rupture, post-lapsus, post-death-of-Eurydice dream of recreating that primal world -- Eden, childhood, Orpheus's singing -- where word and thing were one.