The woman wears her skin
like a bathrobe.
She stands in the middle
of a golden field,
weeping fresh water.
This is a story of the first sunrise --- of God's last genesis.
This is the place where the itinerary of iteration comes to an end.
This is what fire smells like without smoke.
This is a catalog of everything for which I have ever prayed.
This is what happens when you cremate the ghost.
She stomps her foot.
Angels rise from everything
Are they angels?
Is everything finally itself?
Is everything finally Good?
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