If ever on the moors in seeking Zarephath she faltered— White of gossamer and lamb—
And the well in running over Colored bloodred clay Lapis Lazuli, sweetened to dewpoint
As for what it meant To those that saw and waited Prophets and disciples of an Instant; bear witness to the World reborn (not premeditated)
At muddy dawn in unloved scrubland plots Subsequent to love running sacred between The pages of an unloved tome, a fissure
What is a truth? Could I reach out And touch you?
What holds your heart, Elijah? Who can you see beneath the glass Who stares back from the bottom of a raindrop Flashing past before convening With the ground?
Did you know, my dear, I stem from the disillusionment of ground And the resurrecting of fraught winter Sky? Did you know, I am alive and dying to go, now, To arise from Pelas and walk free in sun again?
I want to love the rain So that it knows
I want to lavish love upon your Lips, your hands, Your neck that holds Your temples, the gaps between Your ribs, and vertebrae, and 50 billion stars