5.2

A white open flash of Other.

Totally separate from this.

Heaven. Utter West. The

world across the seas. Tir-

na-Nog.

This life unrolls like a

ribbon of rolling meadow

and green. I see the trees

rivers, flow. And then, as if

a cliff… a black wall where

it all stops. is not there.

It does not unroll after my

going, but is simply all stopped

Like a play shadow box that

drops off its edge to the blackest

black.

This Other cuts across that. At

an angle, not serenely, but

as a different spatial plane

that intersects, but does not

daily see or is seen in

this one.

The vision comes sitting in a pew.

Simple, direct, a waking dream.

As an answer to the black box edge.

We were not here before, and then

we will be there, alive, open

dancing.