Had I not wept tsunami tears,
Transported salt to wounded ears,
Had a millennial flood not flown,
My soul . . . not primeval sown . . .
Seeds in a soil leaven’d by foam,
Grounded in love’s wetness loam . . .
A confluence of earth, love, and light,
Portended Presence, now so bright!
2005.11.18/2005.11.25 (finished with minor edits)
2005 © by the author
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