when the call comes
do not hear it
turn your ears to wind
to stop up murmurs
of the whispering you
think are god
close your eyes
for dawn is not the image of god
but a semblance of fear
projected on your eyeball
we walk and walk and
yearn for god and
the world it swoons with
exertion, and the words
that charter our spirits
turn to god, to leaf
in full summer bloom
everything comes back
only waiting will end us
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