Then They pull me away from my transgression–my melancholy for the distance between here and there and now and then, between she or he and me–and into the great Coral Hall.
The first time, it is a balm, bathing one in the comfort that what They said was true: Here, Lady Wei dances with Lao Tzu, and then with your father. Issa dances with Basho. Sun Su smiles as she passes by a monk I used to be, before what I am now.
Illustration for “Lost Cantos of the Ouroboros”. DAZ Studio, Carrara, Bryce, Hexagon and Photoshop.