There was none to chant;
the name tore through an instrument of expression
like fire through silk.
No breath remained,
only ash that whispered
Hu... Hu... Hu...
The arms rose not from will,
but from the wind
that dances in absence.
Light did not descend......it erupted,
a thousand suns behind the ribs.
One is the smoke
of every veil burned,
the echo of every silence
that once wore a name.
Here.....there is only the turning,
the burning,
the Beloved’s breath
in disguise.
