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.
