it is timeless, this sense,
Above the slant
of the morning eye.
No forms will be surrendered
to prove one's obedience
To one or the other nothingness
of human urge.
Your knowledge does not need
to be revered, or even acknowledged,
For it is of the captured realm
with its nets endlessly extended.
It is not to know that makes us wise,
for the thing that can't be caught
Stays behind, to bathe us in the light
of our own ignorance.
The further and further
the stars withdraw,
The more the coyote
cries.
