In the course of all meditation I watch, that is never there.
I think of the north: I think of the south.
I find you without we, at the centre of unknown- a metaphor unbecoming.
Is it my secularism that breaks uneven, or is it the tradition of male born of female?
In tenderness I despise your nothing. Touch the blades of the river far away swimming, limb by limb, standing still on the bank, carrying the taste of you.
At once, in a leftward leap, I will swallow the strength, and become everything.
(December 03, 2010)