In the beginning
was not the word,
in the beginning was the relation—
out of silence, speech
plain air
and aspiration;
out of isolation, merely
the judicious
use of solitude;
out of the huge
ineluctable gulf
between humans,
an I
who is talking
directly to you—
even though
that can't possibly
be true—
and of course: you, sitting there,
having
just woken up
like a god
who dreamt for light years
in a hall of gleaming marble
and for a second
couldn't remember
the full extent of their power
but now, without any effort
is constituting truth,
reifying the beautiful,
effortlessly winding spiral
after spiral
of light in the vacuum,
making
my little
universe happen.
