Email change locked me
out from my own words; glitch is
fixed, I'm home again.

our immovable dance
threads  the great canvas
of no thing
made of and by
our knowing  
the carrier of sound
stretches
by love
and plays
lights and shades
along the
ever changing curls
of a velvet universe

---

if there is two
it is not even at two separate
ends

but a base of being
for and of
each other

we cannot say that
for each one of the two
there is a sense of two

when one is not existential
without the other
then the other is not the other
but the way for the one to be  

selflessly

then one sees one
then one knows one

Love

one love to one love
like a sheet of purple gaze

flows along
and permeates
one another

it is the dance of grace

in between the two
lies the universe

for they balance
as ever distincts
the sparks of
the tale of things

ah pure love within itself knowing the other
ah pure love source of all divine dance

spans

the carrier of creator’s subtlety

the sign of all creation  
living on its own
– apart from its creator

we hear inside

---

silence of
the vacuum
omnipresent
as one sound
-but not a thing-
permanently
enlightening
nameless
it remains

*
in a wisdom
where
time cannot
be traveled
as long  as
time is defined
to create
time

"instantly" doesn't apply
though we use the word to describe
an eternity that passes
before one’s eyes

in the flash flesh takes
to surrender, when a bullet passes
through a heart, a skull is crushed
in a head-on collision  

let me pause a hand an "instant,"
to make the car key turn, or the foot fall
from the curb a momentous moment,
later

altering all destiny, by chance,
if I had the chance, to be master of a tiny cogwheel,
of one machine--I don't need omnipotence,
only the reins of time

She's proud to be African,
She has no bleaching plan,
Her focus is on life,
She doesn't want to live in strife,
She works hard,
Her life isn't centered on finding a man to keep her,
She believes there's more to life;like chasing her dreams and inspiring lives,

The rain it pooled deep within the leaf, the hollow
and drank there - insect, vole and swallow
along a mud and marshy path, my feet for to follow
and tread upon the lichen moss, I sank softly greening
watching all the day, the trickling of the woodland trees
the light that breathed there glistening.