Leaving off where other things
begin...seems to insure a
re-invitation to that leaving
off.
Space wearing itself...relishing
in what forgot to check itself.

There's something to be unsaid
of becoming a nonevent...where
the Truth be told by light's third
person.

Gift me your exquisite arrival times...
your comings and goings into your own--
and I will instinctively pour what I contain.
What I kept for myself...will consider itself
free, and so...begin to disappear on sight.
We could make this life a common affair...
couple in color till we bore through the canvas.
We've already gone where no man or woman
have gone before--as space is a matter of being
unique unto us...yet not.
The space between our uniqueness and
likeness...is the ineffable space that the infinite
gave chase to.
It is true...we will die misunderstood, please
don't misunderstand.

You've unhanded blinding sheaths in
your moving, the air bows and becomes
your grace.
The flower, flowers because you went
where you went.
You've blissfully burnt the daily level--
rising thereof...the Spring of your doing
has come round to meet you again.
Your field has flowered...you've done
beautifully yet another "year"...
subtler the Spring of your time.

I Am the burning candle of my
own vigil.
The night of my ignorance is
long...though hope lie beyond
me, I Am not beyond it.
My center is perfect, my
circumference is boundless
freedom.
What needs knowing shall be
known, what needs forgetting
shall be forgotten...there is
absolutely no hurry.
There's no time to be bidden,
only this timeless vigil burning
in degrees of clarity.

Horizons take their turn
as excited children...bearing
the message that the slate
is wiped clean.
Wide grows the space for
color and song...how wide
its grows...a meeting of
horizons.


Konstantinos Mark

Not by the cerebral unease
of paradox, shadows agreeing
to disagree (knowing they
are more substantial than things).
Not by the world being taken
away from those who must
observe days.
Not by the incapacity for a
fitting end to those observing
days...do I state, the time is short...
yet no unit shall have its fill of you.


Konstantinos Mark

There you were...
in care of faintest heart--
seen off beside yourself,
by yourself.
Your holding cell moved
with you in perfect
measure...keeping time
with the best of saints.
The beauty in ugly
steadily fed disproportion
to that hungry Light.
As if there was nothing
amiss, nothing to be cast
off...only, looked at--with
unspeakable depth.


Konstantinos Mark