Sculpture/Poem (B)

                 Sky

 And the loneliness extends forever.

How empty is the sky.

   All of these comforts

we clinged to

drop away.

There are no fortresses, walls

or hidden corners

for our protection.

The place where nothing grows -

  What is the fruit of heaven?

    Where may be the foundation

for my edifice?

  I will go there anyway.

  I will fly

Because this wideness

can not be denied.

The sky is a landscape -

Terrains so high,

  Rising crests so tumultuous.

Our hearts fly through the firmament.

 The eagles and swallows may guide us

to the far habitations

Of those, ever diving,

who never fall,

   Those who bring us fog

and mist and rain,

  Receiving the far beams of light

Here, above the earth.

   This untouchable wideness

  becomes a hope

of something infinite.