TENTH ANNIVERSARY POEM

gibran-eye-and-hand

Forget me when I’m gone.
Leave me in the long rich furrow of your heart
and cover me with your hand

your hand full of eyes.

The one I thought I was who followed the river
limping with nails in his feet singing about the moon
has entered the water and been carried in a spiral

to your heart.

.

Whether I sit  whether I stand  whether I kneel
I am swimming naked with your nakedness
following the curve of your blood through the hollow of your hand

your hand full of eyes.

.

.

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