I see now I see
now I cannot see
earth is a blizzard in my eyes
I hear now
the rustle of the snow
the angels listening above me
thistles bright with sleet
gathering
waiting for the time
to reach me
up to the pillared
sun, the final city
or living towers
unrisen yet
whose dormant stones lie folding
their holy fire around me
(but the land shifts with frost
and those who have become the stone
voices of the land
shift also and say
god is not
the voice in the whirlwind
god is the whirlwind
at the last
judgement we will all be trees
-- Margaret Atwood
