This is the house of Love, which has no bound nor end.


“All of it is rapt
in eternal presence” — Shaykh Fadhlalla Haeri

The cellist begins his celebration
in a raised city with a note of refrain
pointing, on that stone block,
at the eternal goodness between.

To sit and play the seasons
in cycles of sadness and hope:
here is something to live for
and, living, die into its truth.

I am to remind you
with this requiem for the dead,
for those who do not believe,
that the dust which bore us

will bring us back,
still at the beginning’s end
and all eternity arrayed before you,
waiting only for that bow of bare




Holy night