159

by withdrawing she would
allow one to trawl
the otherwise inaccessible.

.
.

158

obscure,
her crossings.

the most sure
forever indiscernible.

.
.

157

she could only ever be seen
not by those who ceased looking,
but rather by those who exhausted it.

.

.

156

the abyss too
was a bridge.

.
.

155

like her,
the world returned
their awe.

.
.

154

unfolding
she veiled herself
in herself.

.
.

153

her offering
was the simplest
and most natural:
that the world
would disappear
into itself.

.
.

152

for those who were able
to maintain a certain confidence
even the desolate wake of her absence
would be fertile.

.
.

151

each leaf
whether of tree
or speech
was but a withered sun.

.

.

150

she always entered silently,
or so it appeared
for there were those who claimed
that she never left.

.
.