Colours of silence
storm-carved into stone.
A bell without sound.
An absent breeze beyond
the window of scars.
A distant lighthouse
sunken in thought at the heart of noon.
Smoke without warmth
rising from the hilltop
where dogs bark with the breath of carols.
The mysteries.
All of them. All.
Gifted to be kept close to the heart,
then,
then,
when you opened your eyes
from dream toward mother.
A gift.
The devil wasn't there.
Neither was I.
Temporary Epilogue
published