The bell tower points like a finger
To the empty sky. Where are all the stars?
I have been many things and none
Has lasted. Does something remain?
The bells ring the hour, but out
Of time: a vague ‘now’ that’s nowhere.
I have took many masks and tried
To cover or control or express this
Deepest shadow, bottomless like the night,
Full of dreams and voices so hard
To understand: but all compact in one
Unique tone of dark blue light.
I have never seen my face—nobody
Does. I have sought mirrors of irregular
Surfaces and different shapes to look
In my own eyes: I see never the same.
The stars are gone, time is broken,
Masks dropped, mirrors blind, myself
Walking no longer in the morning sun,
Feeling the crispy afternoon light and
The chill of the evening soon to come.
What will I say when They will ask me
What I have done with the span allotted?
I’ve took many forms and of many let go
—The beat of Being danced me out:
I never knew how to move except by
The grace of another. So this I can
Witness: all is immaterial but mirrors.
