A calligraphy brush,
Dipped in water,
Travels over stone,
In gestures vanishing—
Into molecules, into air—
Every moment an act 
Of creation and erasure.

Starlings luff and billow 
Across the dusky blue, 
Inking arcs and spirals, 
Swellings and dips,
Every act a moment
Of erasure and creation, 
A choreography of meanings
We may only intuit 
From within. 

—Geneve Gil

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