The dark has its own light.
A son has many fathers.
Stand by a slow stream:
Hear the sigh of what is.

whirls and glides until he too
leaves off on his way down as if
there were another direction
gayer, more carefree

spinning face to face
but always down
with each other secure
only in each other's arms

When the snow falls
the flakes spin upon the long axis
that concerns them most intimately
two and two to make a dance

the mind dances with itself,
taking you by the hand,
your lover follows
there are always two,