And the whale will comeShe touches me.
Alone, a body, flesh and blood
among a world of bodies, held by light
in circles dancing
I stand touching the fiery hair of a goddess.
Round and full she reaches out:
she wipes my brow, she strokes my skin.
The wind moves cool against the grain of her caress;
he tames her ardence, making fire love.
In the water floats the spittle of a man
who has neither lost a part of himself
nor returned a thing borrowed for a time.
To learn of mystery, of such suchness,
HTML Michael Everson, Evertype, 73 Woodgrove, Portlaoise, R32 ENP6, Ireland, 2002-09-09
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