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Trace the liminal space, the edge of self:
My negative, the border of I-am-not-this.
Question condenses along the curve, speaking forth its shape
As coastlines selfsame
On oceans of Other

The dance pressing outward, the lotus unfolding.
As with the scribal mark:
A hollow in the center of the question writ,
Such void given shape by its semicircling coil.

Ho Ôn,
Prime being and answer,
Suffuse the secondary
With emanations of fire.

I prayed today to be both stillness and fire,
My outer borders alive with your energies.
But lucid is the darkness at the center of the flame,
Where the heat is strongest.

The void is the heart of the flame
Where question feeds upon answer:
"This is my body… This is my blood…"
("Hoc est corpus meum… Hic est sanguis meus…")
I myself am question, my being a prayer.

By the eye I see.
The chasm dilates admittance.
Lucid is the darkness at the center of the eye.
By the void I see
Thy light given.

Flames rise in constellation:
Each an eye, each a saint, each a prayer.
I shall be among them.
And the fire and the lotus be one!

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