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I have tasted words, I have seen them. Never had her hands reached out in darkness and felt the texture of pure marble, never had her forehead bent forward and, as against a stone altar, felt safety. I am now saved. Her mind could not then so specifically have seen it, could not have said, “Now I will reveal myself in words, words may now supercede a scheme of mathematical-biological definition. Words may be my heritage and with words…A lady will be set back in the sky….there was hope in a block of unsubstantiated marble, words could carve and set up solid altars…Thought followed the wing that beat its silver into seven-branched larch boughs.
