a sound of forgiveness or
a fog of music through which
a vision of spheres dance
beyond the endless stars
breathing deeply of creation;
the tapestry explodes with
energy flying through the underside
of forever . .
a sign is given of grace
and things yet to be revealed as
reflection . . .
the mote in my eye
is an angel dancing
through sheets of salt . . .
skating, swirling, leaping . .. undulating
weaving in and out of rippling skies;
formless, the uncreated are rebirthed
as wingless beasts crawling through
the mud of a seamless landscape . ..
seeking a lost pearl . . . an elusive
iridescent flow of hope . . .
yet their greed commands them,
bubbling up through the murk and filth . . .
and thus they lose vision
of a beauty . .
forming an aching arch of stillness
an undefined spectrum
around a wounded moon . ..
they lose sight of the given,
chasing after the forsaken . . .
and the sound of music
rattles the bones
of a yet unformed world . .