Black ink and sunbeams poetry

Soul-stone,
unwinding,
the shadow threaded veil,
once lifted,
cannot return us to ignorance,

ignorance, a blissful
shallow-well berift of measure or meaning
is no more fitting for you my love
than the dust,

dust-crowned,
we who went astray knowing
our inequities have reaped
that which was promised us,

in the whirlwind,
amidst the whirlwind,
His voice, at last
called out,
your true
name