Other’s voices lose touch,
other’s touch can never say
as much as the silence
that we hold.

Peripheral universe unfolds
the moon lies down to eclipse’s
blanket, and the down of you
sprouts, half animal, half mystic.

We meet where we may, though
continents divide and other’s lives
jostle for attention, no one squares
the circle of this.

I hold you in my mind
a crucible of fire, boy -man
holding back the torrents.

A union unsung we’ve backed
in corners long enough
searching full thronged streets
for some way out.

Other’s voices lose touch
other’s touch can never say
as much as the silence
that we hold.

Now we are come to this:

spun of spirit raised by dreams
a hunger for the ultimate;
turn again retrieve the apple
from that long dead tree,

when I was Eve.