The Shape of Void
Distant, and close
as close as now
and no farther than
this air
this rose
this lonely pose,
and this deferred vow.
What I see in
symbols and in prose,
is you,
hidden,
in void and in those
nulls,
blurred and shun.
Can you feel me?
I am here and you’re not,
I am there, but I ought to be,
where you are, where
the Sun is, and we.
Can you feel me?
Can you show me,
how shapes come to be,
where light avoids all,
and fails,
and how void becomes you,
and you, the shape of void,
unveiled?
