When one day..
the bird soars away
into arms of the higher skies
quietened by the song
and new wings
from the heavens high….
One day,
chirping to a lotus leaf
it will skim the world behind
at a map of our time
of your life crossing mine
two lines locked in crosses,
of churches and danger zones
of no entry and no exit…
of magic by default.
Two lines swelling to opposite ends,
like two lone mountains,
glued at the base
one dangling from the other
upside down, hanging around…
Two lines…
blowing curves
and cutting bends
freezing in webs
or bellowing out in a blaze…
And the bird
up there
from crystal blues
and static clouds
will bow a little more
to trace our lines at their mouths
and will find the umbilical cord
in a Lord deep in prayer.
Smiling in surprise,
and drunken from his daze
when he trails the endpoints
of your lines and mine..
all it will find
one circle
of no ends,
no time.
