The man asked a question

The man asked a question

a question he knew, so it

was not to hear an answer

or to learn or gain advantage

or even understand. He asked

me the question he knew

the answer to so that

I could know

and he could say

he was not Socrates

My heart is sewn, he said

   with black thread

my heart is held, he said

   with black thread

so that it cannot beat

unless held together

   with black thread

The thread binds

the thread holds

my heart

is bound

   with black thread

and all I can do, he said

is ask questions

I know the answers to:

I am not Socrates.

Photograph by George Hodan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

The choir wore white robes

The choir wore white robes,

spotless, bright white, bathed

in light, moving, swaying

together, giving the impression

of light shimmering, moving,

swaying, to some unheard music,

an orchestration from an unknown

choir director, raising and lowering

invisible arms.

The choir wore white robes,

and began to sing in voices

of white light, cool white,

shimmering sound,

moving sound,

swaying.

They sang in white robes,

and the skies opened

in brilliant red.

Photograph by George Hodan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

The language of rivers

The languages of rivers

may on that day become

one, together fused

into one, one speech,

one thought, one belief,

one heart, that day

the streams flowed

into a torrent, a force

swirling, raging, a wave

covering all of it, all

of what was before,

becoming what is now,

what will be.

Photograph by George Hodan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.