Hug

There is a hugso ancient and round,so empty and deep it hasno name, a hug that absolvedthe moon and stars before creation,a hug that encircled youbefore you were conceived,when the whisper of your soulhad not been spoken.A hug that clasped your formwhen mountains were inside windand wind was the sap in a pine,and the blues of the skyhad not gleamed from your pupils,and the sun had not yetburst