Show me the weariest part of you,

the soft and sodden heart of you

that trembles in the silence and in the absence

of friends.

Show me the darkest thoughts that come

like twisting shadows, blocking the sun.

Show me the fractures,

the wild projections of your lens.

I’ll show you the tender root of me,

the shaking child

and the soaking leaves,

all the concepts and lies

on which my Self depends.

And we’ll see then, in the cloud of our gloom,

the spacious sky

and the strawberry moon,

and the love and the light

that burn without end.