Suffering is the boundary
of everything good.
I am in the presence of death
and the rising of the lost city.
Only He opens the gates
to begin the journey to the oracle.
Plenitude is brought by broken angels,
but I am full and grant them liberty.
I have an appointment with She
who knows the back of things, She
who grinds the scythe and
will show me
the Grey Room, where He sits in repose
as She looks in the gazing ball
and the hourglass remains full,
but for a single quivering grain.
No comments:
Post a Comment