of raspberry leaves
of shredded clouds
and war-torn souls
of letters etched in granite
and the pores of aging skin.
Can you feel the edge of God's shadow
when you wander inside it?
Can you know the shape of God's footprint
when you stand within its walls?
Jagged edges give
to floating molecules their form.
They are the borders
that define the name-filled world.
Borders come in many shades.
Let us not get drunk on them.
Does shadow imprison light
for crossing the border at noon?
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