The thread

I sit,

Watching the clouds dance,

Across the face of the moon.

That silver face,

Grandmother,

Who smiling down,

On me,

Smiles on my lover too.

Though separate,

We both are bathed,

In loving, liquid silver

By her,

He on his northern shore,

While I sit by,

Waters that flow,

Both ways.

He hears my song.

Turning from,

From sinuous sound,

Passing through vibration,

On into waves of pale,

Blue light.

Light that forms ropes,

Between two hearts.

Unbreakable,

Eternal.

As the waters,

Which we stand by.

Book of Kells, Beginning of Mark, detail

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