B.D. Love MEDITATION A river bends to blind geometry. The hawk ascends a random thermal stair. Meandering, we reach what we must be. I stand above the riverbank and see How concrete sheds its military glare. The river bends to whose geometry? Dead souls believe they channel victory By what they wall of what the earth may bear. Meandering, we reach what we must be. Our feet transcribe the heart's geography. We wish to walk. A current takes us where The river bends to blind geometry. I pray my bones might rise as guilelessly, The way a hawk will ride the brilliant air, Meandering, to reach what he must be. All walls are built of our mortality. All water seeks itself. I'm waiting there. The river bends to blind geometry. Meandering, we reach what we must be.