Monday, March 1, 2010

To the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.

I feel stretched thin and a little hole-y.

But a part of me keeps reaching
- my soul stretches out, fingers extended, tendons pulled taut -
searching for the edges of that Something
that is deeper, wider, higher than I.

The windchimes whistle their tuneless notes,
rearranging them over and over in patterns as changing as the wind.

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