The angel arrived at dawn beneath the city bridge,
and called into question some cherished beliefs.
He gathered at the body of a drowned whore
and whispered, 'what can I hope to learn about her?
Sophia, your arms are weak and slack,
all your dark hair a swirl in the water.
Now adrift you are beautiful and pleasant to contemplate.
The totality of things, an elegant universe.
Are you that which has grown or that which has been made?
I have considered these many things, when all that you are is river mud
with the sun passing above and warming the earth,
in these many regions outside the heavens, where we are.
I understand, why you have tried to reject death's final invitation.
But the weather is not as grim today.
I produce a star-map and a map of the kingdom.
Remember, that love alone made the intelligible world
and this small destruction is nothing.
I say this in many places.'
As her death grew older, the tide withdrew, retreating along her thighs
and she drifted onto the drier heights of the low embankment.
'Nobody has found you but love.
Sophia, I guide you briefly, away.
The nourishment of everything is dissolution.
You have called me to your tiny despair here.
The earth holds the river that held you. I am winged-moisture.
Grow into me and fly to the things that would not change.'
