What I see is there for every eye;
it does not hide that well, it seems to me –
for although present in a clouded sky,
it is shielded quite ineffectively.
Beyond the veiled illusions it exists
and waits, expectant, ’til we catch a glimpse;
it is both light that hides, and hiding mist,
both door and hinge, both shadow and footprint.
I write about it, yet my mere words fail,
as well you know who see it clear as I;
my loose description does but mark the trail –
a fleeting flash of color passing by.
Sometimes, when we both look, our eyes may meet
and in that instant, the world is complete.
21 JUN 2003
