Heaven is the dream we had
when first we felt dissatisfied.
We are spawned in darkness.
No eyes note
the joining together of the loom
that knits the stuff of
us from roots that clutch the earth.
We live surrounded by the never born.
The grass is not born.
Birds break their shells
and call to the mother that left them.
We are pushed, exiled from the dark into
Birth is the break of the surf,
abandonment on the shore of light,
while the sea exhales back to the
We dream not of light, but of darkness.
We turn and rip the stitches
to know again just another’s beating heart.