We are the weavers, you and I,
Who tend the looms with ease;
The rainbow strands we pick and try,
Always the eye to please. Cascades of filaments align—
...
Two hands that once in their palms
Held the world I no longer know:
Gnarled, distorted phalanges augment
The natural road maps of my life;
...
Candles
I will light in
Faraway lands hallowed
By monks; I pray you'll fly away
...