What, then, you wonder, is hidden from you
Deep in the spark, past the light it sends or
The shadows it casts. Reaching, reaching in
For time, you move closer to the mirror,
Look yourself in the eye and feel the slip
Of the self, out of who you are, to beyond it ,
To an image of a field of purple martins flinging
Themselves at their sightless prey so lightly
The ground seems unnecessary—-
The ground is unnecessary.
