THE CLAPPING OF ONE HAND

Love
we honour
as if
we
cannot
live without.

Words
we
cling to
as if
no 
meaning
exists beyond.

I
will wait
until
love
and
word's
time
runs out.
 

A TOY IS NO TOY IF IT DOES NOT BREAK
 

I need not thank you
for the father you gave me,
nor for the bouquet of sisters
or for the melodic brother.

I celebrate your death
—the terrifying silence and peace—
of which you are a part,
for now I can enter that trust
with no fear
nor pain,
knowing
that even the most beautiful is an impermanent
gift.

Many miles away in alien continent
I kiss you
for the tender assurance of your death:
only the most human
is divine.