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
