Dark Matter

for Tom Mandel

Love must see all things that are
But not with any eye.
The thought must rise from darkling waters,
and still gloss clear and dry.

The heart must mimic life lived large
in it's sentences and fate;
accepting time without an end,
and enter at the gateless gate.

The body, all it's time undone,
must yield itself to air.
The soul, a dream no longer dreamed,
must freeze upon the spiral stairs,

That lead up to an arc of light
which circles in that storm
where no eye sees all things that are,
where that which is, is born.