II. Fire Blocked My Way; Ashes Shrouded My Paths
If you can imagine that you were sky,
Then I can imagine that when I was waking—
Stepping by my baby’s room, then standing in the yard,
Finding your morning star and whispering my song in you
As you carefully turned your darkness to that purple which hid 
Every other star and colored the eternal patterns
The trees and my breaths were making, over and over again—
You would have always heard me there,
Thousands of times, and in thousands of other places,
Pouring out my life, giving my spirit with every syllable,
Praying beyond prayer, trusting without ceasing.
And you would have turned to flames and utter blackness,
As, like a moon flower too weak to ever open again,
I forgot the world completely—the motion and the sound.