ARTICLE OF FAITH

. . . would travel forever
towards those buried mirrors, what the future
so
consummately withholds. 'memories,' you'd
called them: the

grey gaze in its diadem of
dark lashes
a-

lighting, at last, in the remote ovals of the
eventual. does it glow? then
glean. ripple? then
ride the

least quivering signal clear to its
deepest
ob-
fuscated source. for only the
image -- 'icon,' you'd called it -- withstands the
un-

remitting dispersion of the
heart's
most adamant particles. move, then, amongst
shadows. in the
pale grammar of the grasses, read the
re-

constituted facets of the otherwise
ob-
literated face. nothing
ends.

* Gustaf Sobin - 1935 – 2005