and there was nothing. and the fire will take us into
that glow that has been on the horizon. did nietzsche
get it right when he sd, we have art in order not to
perish of truth. or can art be the same the vessel of
the expression poured forth into this world the tightrope

between yin’s feeling and yang’s acting. virginia called
it the narrow bridge of art. and some creepy post-
man has my essay of hers, marginalia and all.

someday after mastering winds and it’s de Chardin’s
words ringing alongside yours. and what is this reverie..
and there was nothing when the first leaves fell from the
crab apple tree in the middle of the night. and there was
nothing but yin’s silence. now the leaves are drenched
in today’s rainfall, out of place among the evergreens
that are pillars that remain that watch. and when do the
sidewalk cracks make it more than better than okay.

there was nothing and we’re left outside in the cold to
figure a way for it to work and the hesitation the pause
are symptoms of the yearning for peppermint tea but
no not just tea perhaps a blonde mocha because it is
cold and yes that would be perfect no not that black
tea with milk, please, earl grey, breakfast blend. yes.

outside the goddess is weeping and i have fallen into
her embrace her full arms and there was nothing to
cling to apart from her breast. lights flicker in some-
body else’s kitchen. and my oven has been singing to
me calling me to bake to create to birth now that the
heat has left the outside air and we are once again

seeking warming things and maybe it’s food that i
should put into this body feed her with the bounty
of the goddess and i want to play to giggle to dance
in the apple orchards. and it is elul and i am coming
back to myself every year i spiral deeper and there
was nothing but now i’m touching something on that

verge that edge that peak that cliff that jump that
chance of vulnerability that place where i can drop
my robe drop my walls drop the defenses and the
costumes because i need to be naked before You
and there was nothing and i was so lost so forlorn
but You’ve sparked me created a glow inside of

this ember shown me that i’m not a hopelessly sh-
attered filament but a ripe one a candidate for a
system overhaul for stretching a new canvas over
this frame and painting on it now with the most
alive colors the dreams and hopes of my horizon

being tied up and twisted yet untangling the tangles
that have kept me bound for so long and religion is
a return to being bound, but it is a return to being
bound and so it’s old and new all at once and i
taste my virginity on this tongue and the electric
jolts open me wide i am fluff on your altar and
please please let me be (your devoted sacrifice)

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