How hollow these hallways echo,
A distant recollection of the past;
Pale moonlight on a summer night.
Fleeting footsteps flee their own shadowy sound,
No direction, save away.
But the shadows do not still your soul;
For there is no harm unanticipated.
Leave the unknown for the future,
To weave around you,
A cloak of the cosmos.
Sit a moment, child,
To let the Moment take hold,
And breathe infinity into you.
There is no love greater than Hers,
Mother of Moments,
Who gives breath to meaning in erasure:
Through Her all things are qualified.
Discordant distinction to serve as her palette,
Co-authorship via The Truth:
‘First there was stillness,
And again there will be.’