The risen Christ! Once more faith is upon us, a jubilant brief keening with respite: Obedience, bitter joy, the elements, clouds, winds, louvres where the bell makes its wild mouths: Holy Rus – into the rain’s horizons, peacock-dyed tail feathers...
Evil is not good's absence but gravity's everlasting bedrock and its fatal chains inert, violent, the suffrage of our days.
