Sunday, September 28, 1997


ashes of disengagement in the face
too empty not to care
too dry to sob, too burnt to speak
yet something essential, something true
out of the fire, an eternal flame, a quiet sigh
an exhale pivoting on changing times
coarse grains of history
like threads between my fingers
a holy fragrance weaves
reconciliation within the mouth
reverberating from behind the tongue
sounding of destiny
notes like flavors of a divine dream
never forgotten
unfolding from silence in rhythm
a drumming curl
flowing with love like still waters
from the inmost heart
light made like living stones
dancing with the garden moon

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