This moment is the rim
of nonexistence.
We live here
tipped and poised
for pouring out.
Why speak of safety?
Only the past is safe.
Revelation of the Word
happened yesterday.
Berries, moths, the skin
on hot milk wrinkle
and perish; their light
returns to the cooling stars.
Darkness nurtures us now.
Plunging into the shadow
is grace
because we have no idea
what we will find there.
Be a chrysalis after the worm
dissolves into unknowing.
Perhaps a glistening
rainbow will unfurl.
Perhaps not.
Taste uncertainty
here in your sternum
like a blade.
Feel falling itself:
there is no ground.
Ripen your surrender
into sweet bruised fruit
at the seedling hub
of the turning seasons.
Repose a little while
in the nameless.
Then offer your prayer
for this fragile trembling
thing that emerges, the earth.