I’d be thinking all night about god,
thinking there was nothing to think.
From that balcony overlooking the trees
I could see nothing beyond galaxies,
nothing more than a few clouds
just outside the spheres of my eyes.
A breeze fanned their tarot shapes
across the August sky.
It was that one cloud,
a dark and cloven cloud
between me and the moon,
that sent me inside, locking all doors,
sent me curling under the sheets
deeper into my center
like burning parchment
to blasphemous truth.