This page of paper stares at me
awaiting its own history
to fill its whiteness with the form
of spirit being born

in whitest fire ever-burning
transformation of the yearning
for the place we must call home
where the heart will never roam

seeking, always seeking this:
the heavenly touch left after bliss
of spirit's kiss, in never-ending
world of the soul reblending

mind and matter, body, form
within this page reborn

? Michaelette ?