Perhaps lights exists In the persistence of one image. This one, lined up in the gun sights, Which my nose dimly became.

Then how to explain the dark, The endless swamp at every turn? Faith or fate may lead one to higher Ground, but always leave this geography

Unexplored and unexplained. What is the extant of this country? How high are the sand dunes here? There I too crawl on my fours,

Sounding at every step for hidden Crevasses, blue ice curving away Into an ending no one can see. Are these endings whose inevitability,

By fleeing, I am trying to defer? Light is both a wave and a particle. What article is then the dark? A static vacuum, an absence,

A yawing mouth, a hunger That never ceases, something eyes Never see because it takes up Residence only on their closing?

A third eye on a green sheet, gleams, possessing the answers.