Resting in an expanse of earth and darkness,
resting in an expanse of night and dreaming,
holding my no-face in intimate confidence
at the doors of darkness and light,
above, far away, the light beckons me to rise
from the dark primeval waters of origin.
After washing my no-face in her waters,
after returning repeatedly to her breast,
I am called to a delicate arising into the light
and to reveal my face, my eyes,
my breast bone to the manifest wind—
Upon waking from luscious oblivion,
forms begin to appear.
I am called— yet the call of the dark
pleas too for heedence—
Calls— calls to which I return and rise again and again.
Then, receiving starlight in my arms
like a mantle of grace,
I advance softly into half-light,
into the implication of light
that recalls its origin,
sweet like honey vapor.