as the moon wanes
and looses its other self,
i loose my earthly self
passing through the
seventy thousand veils
so i may visit and
gather my waning self,
my better self that was
always you. asphyxiate
my breath so i too may
remain in the rushy bed
and rid myself of this
earthly foolishess.
listen! the noise
of the ney in fire;
use it to burn my
work so it too may
return to this wine.
for my mother
`t. imaan tretchicovmanicova
1jul09
copyright © 2009