Thursday, November 11, 2010

The Taste of Morning

Time's knife slides from the sheath,
as a fish from where it swims.

Being closer and closer is the desire
of the body. Don't wish for union.

There is a closeness beyond that.
Why would God want a second God?

Fall in love in such a way
that it frees you from any connecting.

Love is the soul's light, the taste of morning,
no me, no we, no claim of being.

These words are the smoke the fire gives off
as it absolves its defects,
as eyes in silence, tears, face.

Love cannot be said.

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