is your weaving procrastination or
bare art to chart the tempest of my heart
make me be making you become our all

is it wisdom when you step away from wood
the holding firm of it, its firmament
but temperamentally gossips with birds

is it deception that you tangle, home
of spider-silk as wordy work, anchored
by glittering images that come to know me

no pristine landscape catches stellar wings
earth shakes the boughs of quaking sun
scattering us as gibbering bats from ashes

airborne we’re hunting fireflies between
a melting Luna’s effulgent ice cream
dodging light-threaded night and Venus rising

i am assemblage channeled to be none
you are motion, savior of fitful sleep
the rhythmic tide unravelling its mooring

draw deeply down where one is one is one
fly home again wherefrom wind-woven sea
embroiders iridescent migrations

//

Wasalamu’alaikum 🌖✨