Groping outward into mirky memories
Shall “you” stay there, will I insist?
Holding onto a beautiful picture
That has broken its frame and fallen…or Risen?

Shall I allow that “face” to turn away
Into another turn, where saints glide without boundaries?…

Streaming in currency of musical scale
You carve out a space with invisible touch

Kissing the flames in tiers of terse color
You smoke and burn the dew-dampened wood

 You move without sight, yet blinded are not
Feeling your way in chime and song

Moaning and singing without a distinction
You play in the trees with ceaseless vibration

 You light and lift the garment of Soul
With hymns that flit in patterned frivolity

 Dancing in death, you stifle a breath
Held short but a while, then released in new naissance

 Would you lift up the dust into storms of asymmetry
Converging the earth as if Life could stand still?…

It occurs to me that something new can be unforeseen…
Invisible space stretched out, unfolded and naked.
Whispers of wine and confetti – forlorn, bereft and beneath –
A citadel of sightlessness…provocative nascence.
Is my story the game? “No” says the real.…

Can you find your face in the clarity of stillness?
Do the waves of discontent distort the image?

Does not truth have other garments than balance?
Could the unclear contours craft the gaze? 

Is it really your eyes you see in the mirror?

A month, a day, an hour,
A minute, a moment, a nanosecond –
It surges forth, this nothing from nowhere,
Dissolving the framework of all familiarity.

 From its null greatness, it spirals downward
Collecting in complexity the tiniest point, barely seen…
Without disappearing, it lights in the distance,
Beaconing in brightness – a yearning of closeness!…