Somehow, the words of Hesychius
have reached us after more than a thousand years
and from a desert place, Mount Sinai;
where he was famed for ‘breathing Jesus’
...
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Michael, this is another terribly beautiful poem. Your writing is saintly. By that I don't mean to imply you live the life of a saint, but that you capture that esoteric state of the contemplative. As for that 'sweet sadness', I feel its ache most certainly when I read this poem. Thank you.
Sigh. In the best possible way. Yes, I agree with Mary, your writing is saintly. However, I am sure that while you most certainly do live the life of a saint, it's not very saintly to continue to write pieces, seemingly with such eloquent ease, which are bound to inspire such poetic jealousy! :) t x