Joining the seams for the sake of probity
you opt for the wages of truth.
Staying hungry to read the cosmos,
connecting the meditation to love
denatured. You are afraid of losing
the thread. Memory of infidelity of conceivement.
A vision without the thought
was a consecration
to think or not to think
was a great dilemma.
A backdrop of the prisms
always made you crazy.
Listening without ears,
seeing without eyes
became a brilliant idea.
Children of grief coming through
the open doorways
of mind. Soul mates.
I dream of a desperate ending
of midnight journey into song inviolate.
What if the night ends
without a human face?
Body becomes the path unending.
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