A sound like stars, slow and many-pointed,
Illusive, low—-it aligns itself with other sounds,
Just beneath perception, music of spheres,
The music of functioning worlds: It’s the means
Of observing that misses its existence.
I’ll ask What don’t I hear and it there it is,
Emerging from me, rising to my request,
Cognizant of my self and open to it—-
What, then, you wonder, is hidden from you?
