The Dove


By Pavel Chichikov

You know what time it is – what time should it be?

The last second, last division, last segment of an orbit

Last photon stopping – has stopped already,

Nothing left, all darkness overcoming it

Here between one sunrise and the next

One word, one sentence, one denial or affirmation,

Between the letters of a long unfinished text:

The space of empty endless meditation

Beginning and the end, alpha's omega, zed's A

Love's systole, death's hyperdiastolic, all together

Not one moment – Genesis to when there is no day:

Briefer than the falling of a wood dove's feather


(Click here to follow Pavel's ongoing epic poem “The Shoulder of the Sun.” You may visit Pavel's website at http://www.greyowlpress.com.)

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