Member-only story
You listen to Bach’s Cantata 51, the second
Aria, and you lie in the sun and
The sacred is everywhere.
The echo of this music is like a child in
You, or a flower… and to touch you now
Would be like mourning: the
Hoop of darkness opens before you
And the teeth are like angels.
Grace is giving your love to the earth,
Flinging it like seed across the waste.
