THE OCEAN AND ITS WAVES

Almost a human face
almost a human hand
almost a prophet:
in the unconscious desert of the Godhead
one speaks somehow
and somehow one listens

Incandescent with inspiration
his silence communicates the fire of the stars.
There are no constellations
except what we impose upon the void.
No seeds germinate in these sterile sands,
and yet the prophecy expands...

Salvation is not salvation.
God is not God.

And the tide is always turning,
merging our footsteps, love letters, sand castles—
into the unknowledgeable darkness
that looms between the stars.