Let bliss be that moment, when footsteps slupper
in the dampness of sand and all sound rings with blood
in the ear. Where by reaching out without lifting
we may pull down the sky to rise, with tails flying,
with nothing more than the string of ourself
to hold us. And all around us glitters, pooled,
in the brilliance of light, for where we stand
and what we see reflected in clear air exhaled.
Let that be bliss. Let that be the bliss of knowing
that we have made track of steps without fear
or demanding eternity, for that moment we are.