We are friends with the one who kills us, who gives us to the ocean waves.
We love this death. Only ignorance says, Put it off a while, day after tomorrow.
Do not avoid the knife. This friend only seems fierce, bringing your soul more range, perching your falcon on a cliff of the wind.
Jesus on his cross, Hallaj on his. Those absurd executions hold a secret.
Cautious cynics claim they know
what they are doing every minute, and why.
Submit to love without thinking, as the sun rose this morning
our star-candle minds.