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Man of Myth
And who are you, bright-blinding light?
Pool of theory, thought, and all that is right?
And when I look at you and we bend into each other.
Distorted, fragmented, might.
My brows furrow,
Eyes that cut.
Mirror shards, that oddly stuck.
And how did they write every poem for us?
How did every myth capture us?
Were we always here?
Was it ever clear?
Why do we wait a moment more?
What is it in us that makes fear?
I want that final form,
The unity, the whole.
I wonder what will fall.
I wonder where we'll go.
