This beauty is so stark;
plying my mind with
sensual gestures. Here
we find diamonds in the drift.
Yet, these marvels caressing my
eyes are but clusters of crystals of ice –
sharp and exact under a microscope
while soft and generous in the
play of the day’s rays of sun.
These drifts stand in opposition to a seemingly straight
line, that is but a throng of dots upon closer inspection.
Drift beside line: together a metaphor for life.
What seems straight is a crowd of clumps and
what curves is a collection of crystalline lines,
Things are not as they appear:
the grave now Your womb and
my kindness Your cross.