Watching the Wall Disappear

A lonely light on a Sunday night—
Why must there be meaning?
It always falls away from truth
And always negates self.

I cannot live the world out by myself,
But by myself I can become the world;
I was left at the doorstep
To turn the knob on what's inside—
Given eyes to see how the porcelain shines
And lips to taste the tap water.

I am new here, a messenger from the world's creators,
Who touches what can only with my touch be understood,
Who pulls things close to ply away the distances,
Who pushes things away to translate the gap
Between what is and what appears to be.

And in that space there's a rising
Like the sideways sun at one of the poles
On the first days of Summer.