White on White

The sense of belonging recedes into shadows on the hills they turn brown then white prematurely aging in a descent through epochs of unknowing I have grasped the mother root of oaks it bores under the soil buckling the farmhouse floor white flagstones rise like a dais in an amphitheater from the far seats I spy the masked actors twirling past one another’s arms they stride alone into the tragic chorus in step with the white of the void whose roar fades like distant bells in the valley I have seen cracks in the white earth fields white for harvest roads white with dusty clumps of sand grapes white on the vine rows upon rows of whitewashed fences holding back nothing but sky the day owes little to white foxes in their den little to flocks of dirty white sheep or meadows white with flora so wild in their whiteness yet fringed in blue I scrape their white paint into my palms and smear it over my face I vow a white on white a purity of will I cultivate a purity of white not found on the color wheel or in laymen’s prisms light fades to white before the fall of clouds before the garments of the firmament put the green world to bed white dreams will swirl before its eyes they will tap into the parent root of promise blooming like lilacs in the white cool of dawn

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