Between listening sky
and attentive earth
between my call
and silence
between seeing and hearing
between what is
and what is not
between drops of rain
between blades of grass
between the eagle and its nest
between inhale and exhale
between my God
and the cliff walls
stone without crevice
leaking honey
of the ending
unconsummated
between emptiness and hollows
between being lost and gathered
on this mountain of passage
that blocks the path
does something cross between?
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