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


Come again to read, young one;
see how I have spent a million years
of my leisure folding these rusted rocks
and lifting from the deep past of earth
lyrical symmetries of lightstone,
alif, lam, mim molded into these mountains
with a repeated unity you can never reach,
even in fields beyond right and wrong,
where grandeur does not begin to grasp it
and grace has written her magic letters
from the Book of Truth into this first red
which rose when Africa came to life,
just a few burnt proteas left behind
to remind us of the ancient patterns
here for all to see.


All that you have

Must pass

How I see you