Ultimate Shot

I find this clarity like a silent paper. I roll it open, like a
silent city, absolutely frozenly silent, glass-made,
only a heart weaving all limbs of distance together
I try the other leaves
When leaves know nothing but being attuned to the
long cold shadows of mountain range, when the small
flat stone of goddesses carrying lovelier
wild footprints & drops, drops… Blue raindrops,
I mingle into my vision, pebbling,—greening musical aerial
loneliness then clasped through lights or light-brown evening:
it has no compulsion of being serenity in your heart—
"There is an Iceland in every piece of ice
There are auras like Calgary in every thought of Canada"
I once had one such letter from my sister's friend, cruising
through those lines as if Mummy Nature living my unknown mind
There is a no-man's land in every landscape of lustre
Once we were the serendipity, the beauty of the colourless,
the frozen, the ultimate of water-glass, our world being an
ageless parable of love. We then became complete like
a portrait, shot in an eternal moment,
shot by an indecipherable cameraman finally of no trace

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