Membrance (Air)

to Ezra, holding a scroll which reads:
In whose hand is the soul of every living
thing, and the breath of all mankind.

You sensed that meaning was aligned
to love, and searched our smiles
farther than your own. From there,
acutest pivot of the heart, you
crafted a slapstick judo, poking our
ponderous thoughts until they tumbled clean.

Raised among ancient bustle, you sought
the crisp, the minimalist. Now hone
yourself toward the ‘one thing needful’.

Princely, aloof, as when you strode
with red umbrella by the Coliseum,
may your thoughts be light enough
to leap even your own image.

Your life is in your brother,
obverse twin. It is your tenderness,
and not your craft, that marks you.
A vulnerable grin you sometimes shine,
galloping with children on your back.

You will allow the various world
to meet in your soul’s cove
which image or alphabet cannot inscribe.

When time is full Reality will place
into your palm a pure stone
lapped in tidal syllables,
a truer name. Until then, hold
the space that stone will occupy.

Others may gather round an openness.
Let those unknown reaches of yourself
lead into Love, that sheltering immensity
scouring all but what is needed:

the mind as empty of judgment
as the lungs full of breath.