xv 

 

what fleeting light

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made wary, the perilous plunge

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through dim sky thoughts weaken 

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made to become brittle 

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ceasing, infertile, becoming 

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grace of light, and call it profound 

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the light of a train in a dark tunnel

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a consolation for those who are

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unaware of the tunnel’s dimensions 

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to the left, get hit

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to the right, get hit

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and to whom do I owe?

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Life’s architect, god, the creator 

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Which I call me, tempest, human.

 

And it ceases, like all things

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The train passes with me

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And I no longer see its light

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And I know no longer

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That fleeting light