“The gaps are the thing.
The gaps are the spirit’s one home,
the altitudes and latitudes so dazzlingly spare and clean that
the spirit can discover itself
like a once-blind man unbound.
The gaps are the clefts in the rock where you cower to see the back parts of God;
they are the fissures between mountains and cells
the wind lances through,
the icy narrowing fiords splitting the cliffs of mystery.
Go up into the gaps if you can find them; they shift and vanish, too.
Stalk the gaps.
Squeak into a gap in the soil,
–more than a maple–