original sense

I've loved you like a conqueror
now I want to learn to love you like smoke wafting up into a room full of fog

like a log in a fire, surface by slow flaking surface into a new and energetic form

I want to learn to do the work of loving you
and love to do the work of learning to love you
and do learn to love the work of you
and do love you

surface with its mirror coating stripped
tiny voice that screams over the
silence of enlightenment
talking about the science of enlightenment

we're creatures of time
we're creatures of mind
we're great swirling patterns

our souls sometimes rhyme
in our fear of the abyss
clinging to an old story

like an ark in a storm
or a turtles's back

we emerge from the glimmering wet of our own mouths,
these maws, gaping, mothers after the afterbirth,
a tiny churning of sparks in the godhead,
wondering -- what could be more glorious in its irony
than hoping to think a thought that proves its own originality,
in this one-without-a-second world