The Winding Universe Soft winds blossom in your eyes, leaving an unsaid word blue and true. The earth starts from there, dormant volcano, another year. We dive into unroofed sky, blazing up stone- walled air. Birds’ sound becomes repetitive: “Rummage through my ashes what you may find, rightness half-assumed and often wrongly applied.” Empowered by feelings of betrayal, freedom calls us into more Night. Let it be! The lucid moment of terrified fogs, sweet shadow dissolves. Bare- footedly, we trudge on, not knowing what lures us into this tremor, polished by needs, needs only. 2005-2-10 |