Let your eyes write
new tears for a pilgrimage
to a place you cannot see.
But wait
for the thick darkness.
That is when he will call
for you.
Till then quiver your soul.
Forget about being
in his image.
You will only be looking
into a blindfolded mirror.
He lives in infinity, and his voice is
an octave higher than silence.
His words thrum
through the clouds.
He whispers fire and speaks
in endless vowels.
He comes with a river bird
asperging feathers.
Pray for the sky that absorbs
evaporating continents
and black-plumed sins.
As his train goes by,
you realize you do not
have to wear
your body anymore.
