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