The ivory gate of time nourishes nothing.
It dissembles the landscape, cuts it up
into pieces. I search my life
like a wound for the bloodletting of grace.
It’s nearly over when I realize
it’s just beginning. I hear so many beautiful voices
traveling the conduits of wind,
telling me to step out into the light,
into the buoying radiance.
The fire will consume everything,
cost you even your body.
But yes, you will float in
the conflagration. You will be held
by gentle hands. In the last moment
there will be a breath warming
your cheek. It will be paradise.
A word of softness. It will be the world
humming back together, terminal and bright.
Artwork by: Antonio de Pereda
