First came the scream of birds in low flight, cries torn from their gizzards. The leaves of the poplars rattled as the bird-wind alighted on its branches. The storm-lanterns swung, lighting guilt fires. 3 Shadows, wind, move in the garden, A mystery strikes root somewhere, a wand unfolds a rose.
Thought puts a diamond sword into the heart and turns it with an ecstatic twist.
Love is never here, it says. It is always there, across the desert at the edge of the town, at the other end of desire. I understand, in humility bend. God, death and love are all striving's end.