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,

Obstinately,

While the watchman in your eyes

Patrols the arid fields

For fear of losing

Even the cracks.