Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Esther Veltheim

Like a feather, touched
By the whim of Your breath,
I fly, I fall, I hang,
As if suspended
In that space
Between You and me.
The breath, the feather
dancing in unison.
This strange
and constant dance,
Where You dance me
and I perform.
And then, with certainty
I know there is
no You, no me,
I lose myself.
No thought, no word,
No understanding
can come close,
to what is beyond them.
                                  E.V.

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