Under the dome of time

   UNDER THE DOME OF TIME

                A pleasant sight –  a calm sea,
                but even better –  a peaceful state of mind.
                St. Nilus of Sinai

I will close my eyes and see
that space
under the Dome of Time,

where everything was. . .
Everything was there.
Without thought of self. . .

Here – the scent of seaweed,
washed ashore by a storm. . ,
Yesterday's? . .

Seems like yesterday. . .
Here –  the shore,
resting from the waves. . .

Here –  a white chalk
on a sky-blue
circle of gulls:

in their beaks –  the same cries,
eternal,
over full nets. . .

The same buzz of a mosquito,
the same rise of a spider's thread. . .
The splash of a wave. . .

a fleeting
fly. . .

The rustle of our steps. . .
and the whisper of leaves,

the rustling
of an angry hedgehog,

and that beam, between lashes,
that argues with the wind

and the black beret
about the gold of strands.

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