A mite of light spits out of me
flowing liquid through vessels of dust
embodying a center here,
in this pin-point crater of eternity.
And these bones map the breakage
and this bliss is light revolving
through skin, muscle and form.

Suddenly, a symphony of love
but not all loving –
often, discord and cruel interruption
hardly resolving to That harmony
of loss and becoming.
Timelessly hosting this Being
as a continuous still note sounds
and strange planetary choirs
celebrate the silence That let them sing.

Suddenly, someone turns on the lights,
And I am here – in walls confining,
twilighting in two-tunnelled places
of old faces and this ‘no’ thing,
That we strive so hard to believe.