The Mean Time

 

this morning

in the mean time

before god revised the world

before the mouse that moved across

the desert

in the absence of humility

of a bending flower

before the sundering of darkness & installation of the sparks in the sky

in the absence of heart or resurrection &

the impeachment of ignorance & impenetrable skin

over the heart & the absence of opening of the heart

before eyes could open and bend to the caring light

the shy god

formed a sign in the void with his long name

there, then, there was a “was.”

& the sign was imagination of long accomplishment

it’s hard now to unimagine

the dove’s first flight

and the gratitude of winged sight

landing against the end of the sea.

it’s hard now to understand the crow’s landing and with its dark talon drawing in the sand

the revelation of light and dark constant warring.

the madness of their understanding together, the

revelation that comes

as i open my early eyes recreating

to this mornings’ sunrise.