A slight film of unease has now stuck to my skin
as when children learn the wireless dance of junkie angels
swimming, never walking,
through the sand dunes of desire.
As I struggle through my fast
a lack of commitment stings my missing centre.
That's when I see Her hurry through
stripping the horizon, hissing like a blade:
Our Goddess wears a morning!
And I no longer feel
that light's just passing by.