When space is cleared by storms of raging light,
And distance nods to sleep in neighboring homes,
Then skies becalm, and heaven's warmth invites
God's scattered souls to congregate as one.
When space is swelled by waves of pulsing sound--
Gregorian chants or whispering subdued--
Then boundaries blur as probing minds expand,
And heaven will collapse in solitude.
The path round love is fixed and turbulent,
Convulsing time in confines pressed absurd.
My days and paths are aimless weaves and blends
Of breath and blood and absence grown inert.
An exile circles blissful, warm domains,
Exhausts his legs in orbits etched in pain.