Sound of wax

Responds to God’s handwriting

As papyrus is stretched on a cross.

Translated holes of its’ threaded Being

Are unfolded in numerous reincarnations

To make consciousness between sins and direction.

 

The thing of which

Neither lens

Nor mirror

Extends phonology.

 

Photography, you are my rays,

My longitude.

Prayer turns soil into a script,

A person,

A file (shine!).

Handwritten cupola,

When abstract turns into a letter

Your energy is my water,

I am stunned.

​

People and history are written by the sun itself

The actual links to which can be opened by clicking

On the stones, hewn by human feet.

​