|
and a point a world. Suns and shadows pass across the room and the high vault's echo is a heart's beat of a sighted life. The door is open to the field and the weathered hill's familiar in the mind. returns in part: the brief imago not yet born. Suns and shadows ripple in the deep; a surface holds the clear divide of worlds. Many-lensed the air flows, and the water streams: the burning boundary holds. in a day. The eternal dark of pasts now lit in him. Suns and shadows ripple in his eyes, and his mind rotates the spiral of the days. As one in days the surface of this day bears weight and here the days begin. -- |