In this world where we forget
we are shadows of who we are,
and the true expressions we form
in that other where, souls, we live,
All is night and confusion
that exists among us here:
projections, smoke scattered
from the fire whose glow is hidden
when we look at what life gives.
But one or another, gazing
closely for a moment,
can see in the shifting shadows
the intent in the other world
of the expression that makes them live.
And then they find the meaning
of what here is merely a grimace,
and their intuitive gaze
returns to their body, lost,
Shadow of the yearning body,
it pretends it feels the tie
that binds it to the marvellous
truth that hurled it, anxious,
to the floor of space and time.