down their spiraling funnel of light, which rises –
while i plummeted toward source,
beyond me, forbidden, hidden in horizons barred
to my small eyes. i pledge to rest
in this quotidian, to cry, to moan, to shout
out from experience,
saluting the high chambers of their flight
only as a straggler of light,
my tools a gift of firelight, a certain sharing
in vision, power, an intimation
which flashes in me, mere shard of glass
from a shattered mirror (like vows
that must be made, and broken)
condemned to reveal of which it has no sight.
