Thursday, September 20, 2012

Then, then again

...the sharp moon,
a sickle that cut away
the clothing of my night,
who then, shining wise,
so covered herself
in silver mystery
that it can never fade.
Each revisit finds
a pregnant mist
gladly birthing
the deep church
of my unfathomable life.

1 comment:

  1. What a great line! "the deep church of my unfathomable life". Wow!


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