There is too much light, there is too much art
But darkness never enough, the divide
Turns to void too easily, the central heart
Gets bedecked with mind, its beloved guide
As if the war was already fought and
Decided. The blueprints of the blue sky
Just prophesy geometries that end,
The chords resolve too soon, and nullify
The infinite, which relies on discord's
Endless spread. That quiver on the record
Betrays the ghost you cannot see, your own
On each other side, in a cruel mirror
Where you paint your face without one being there—
The empty glare, the inexhaustible alone.
