"Reality is what surprises," he said,
By way of explaining the miracle
That filled up the hole he had dug
Out of, he reported, empty desire.
"The familiar vanishes, just like the
External world to an eye that will not blink."
All I had was a feather to defend myself
Against the unkept promises of peace.
It was more than enough
To focus
In deadly silence
The laugh that used to be a cry.
The rituals of remembrance
Serve an important purpose,
As a way to forget
What no longer serves.
The lesson books have ended
With a novel denouement.
It is time to bare experience.
The feather is gone.
