Meandering space...

We grovel in the dust
we drown in the sea
we swim...
In meadows lush
and dance on the bough
of a silver willow tree
we adapt to the wind...
And walk on the moon...
As man is an angel
so to is god the spider...
At the centre of His loom
as we are the fabric
he is the meandering space within
each weave woven kiss
so open your mammoth-mouths
and pray for his...
In the dust of the sea
in that holy meadow
before you sink to swim...
May your moth-wings dance on the bough
with just yourselves a trembling leaf
on a silver thread of hemp cloud
With a heart as heavy as ebony!...
May you float and swim on and, on...
Like a leaf on a stream to love!...