Turn

Give me rocks

And waves

Great sweeping skies

With vitas of emptiness

Give me silence

And nothingness

And pressure

To fold on in

And on, and on

To infinitesimal points

To interwoven threads

To blankets of night

To the absence of all things

To no longer belonging

To only being now

Give me freedom

Unending space

From which love blooms

From whence our conjuring begat this life

Like moving a slow hand through night’s ocean, and phosphorous spills against our bright and scattered lives, as soul passes through and on, and on.