Sunday, September 28, 1997

Act One

I still hear you everywhere
penetrating a myriad myriads
one thread runs with love through all, always
dynamic yet ever unchanging
your voice calls
silently, riding flames of a holy wind
moving deeply, deeply
cutting like text through the void
casting clarity with letters, footsteps on firm ground
infusing moments destitute of hope
with the taste of our story
written with secret empty places
brilliant embraces of some sweet breath
loosed like a song among knotting quanta
dancing between one and nothing
in it, strings of living stones, piles and piles
one beautiful mess of chaos, exquisitely simple
establishing a united path among the mysteries
for this woman

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