Letter July 18, 2015

Long enough, longer than I can remember I have been writing you, a poem whirling a full circle in the sanctity of your womb. And now I realize, with each flick of pen it is you who have been pouring through me, pouring me into you, back into the essence. Now I realize how writing you I was poured out of myself and into your river, decanted in your ocean until nothing of me was left, until my body was no more than the husk of its former self, now a chalice overpouring with the glory of your waters, your radiance, your love. Love, lead me to the bewildered center and there root me, in you, unhinge me from myself, a cloud losing itself in its sky-passion, a poem singed by your fated sigh.

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