grinding and binding
the wrong things would bring the blood of transformation
in an age of elegy and time that has no master
except for eternity. Deep with fear but deep with courage,
and riding on horseback close to the cliff as though
summer was nearly over and everything that is now, was before, is not
wasted. As though effort alone was a doorway
to a richer heaven and drowning would teach me how to breathe
underwater. I hold. I hold. I obey the tides.
Sand is in my throat but I am still speaking.
Love comes but not perfect. Love is a boat
with many living on board.
Musical composition by Victor D. Sandiego