Constantly confused, the eye sees
Borders between dreams and waking,
Past and present boundaries
Impinge one on another
In the dim light of refined memory.
In the dim light of refined memory,
We know an inaccessible reality
As tactile and factual as our today,
Forever glimpsed, but never seen,
A crossing point among probabilities.
A crossing point among probabilities,
Immanent and ephemeral beings,
We become “the place where
Creation is working itself out,”
Participants commissioned in time.
Participants commissioned in time,
A dissipated past, a pregnant future,
In a city’s newborn block’s buildings,
The sun crowds through windows,
No one stands ready to see the light.