Thank you for asking–
yes,
I have thought on the soul,
I have decided
it should not be faulted for
its indifference: that is as it
must be.
How blame
the lantern whose limits
always are only the light of
itself, casting the light
out?
That the body enjoys
some moment
in that light, I regard
as privilege.
Say what
you will.
The hawk’s shadow
darkening
the zeroed-in-upon prey,
the victim
classically becoming
quite still–
It is very
like that. Having
understood which, I admit to
–also–the body as mere
story
whose ending,
like the story itself, is
small–how
not to think, for a time, that it
is not finished,
though it
is finished–
The ending was always this one.
Prediction,
gift,
science.
What shines now doesn’t, won’t
in our lifetime
stop shining–
no
I turned away.
