. . . A little while,
a moment of rest upon the wind,
and another woman shall bear me.

~ The Prophet.

Drifting
through the formless void, darkness

all around.
there is a shimmer of sound

like the siren’s song
reaching through space and time.

And in an instant
in an ocean of seeing,
we agree to meet, on those distant
heaving shores.

And I am falling now,
falling through the font
swimming into Being,

into the dialectic,
the mythical, exquisite life
of Earth

graphic for this poem

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