Wings white with
vision...
beating to
render the space
to regain height in
depth, depth in height.

As a flock
of sparrows spaced
in flight, low to the
ground...full of air.
A lightness minds
these meager steps
toward them.
Touching down,
and flying away.
So much room to
breathe, the breath
is taken away.

The light fixture
let out light, as
the windows let
in sunlight.
The watcher played me,
qualified luminosities.
Until the bedroom felt
fully indivisible
by its walls.
Our three lights dawned
on one another.
Then there was Light,
for no apparent reason.
Occurring to no bedroom
at all...light thrice
perceived till overall.

You resonated, you
were there...then there
was other, the projection
died in advance of You.
The prophet spit out as false.

Can you see in
all that Light?
This body waits
to unblock it...
to see what it sees.
Light can only enjoin
Light metaphorically
speaking...more of
what sees, and less
of what does not.

Butterflies bang away at
my stomach...leaving all
kinds of color in its
vice grip.
Of my tales...you were
tallest--you poured me
out and moved in.
Without question you
used god-years laden
heavy with the most
curious wisdom.

In whom places are left in trust...
souls undergo their essential experience.
How good of you all to come, this
greeting is one of passage.
Helplessly taken...there are doorways,
oceans, mountains, forests, deserts,
bridges, tunnels.
These are merely exteriorized to
communicate the passage of souls...
how good of you all to come.
You are what must go through itself,
to come out of itself...the very passage
of glory.