Here on the frontiers of our own natures we sit
alone together, holding in our hands the soul
of neighbor and friend,
brother and enemy,
known and unknown,
loved and feared,
all entwined in the richness of this holy chaos.
Heaven’s preference versus our indifference –
the total and real versus the glib and passé.
If we, like cosmic virgins, inhabit only ourselves,
the protective cocoons
of dismissive distance and convenient forgetfulness,
then nothing can penetrate, to explore our inwardness
and we are left alone –
white, pristine, untouched, without blemish;
but lacking those sweet flaws that, untouched,
leaves empty our canvas, which longs to bleed color
but drinks instead only the pretense of our perfection.
Jump from ledge or cliff
if only to feel the ineffable lightness of flying
too low to the ground.
For, though we fall alone,
we shall land
Thanks to experiencing physical reality for the photo.