Life must be held suspended in a glance
That moves backwards, forwards, holding
Your life together, ceaselessly
Reminding that you are
Something; this thing.
You stop looking: You fall
From a vacant gaze
Into vacant skies
Or even less.
That time is now and truth outside
You can assent to abstractly,
While the watchman in your eyes
Patrols the arid fields
For fear of losing
Even the cracks.