With every Thought I went
out of the World: there you were,
you my Gentle One, you my Open One, and
you received us.
Who
says that for us everything died,
that for us there the Eye broke?
Everything woke, all things began.
Vast, a Sun came swimming by, bright
a Soul and a Soul engaged, clear,
masterfully made a silence for it
a path ahead.
Lightly
you opened your Lap, quiet
rose a Breath in the Aether,
and what became cloud, was it not,
was it not Form, and for us then,
was it not
as good as a Name?
