Wisps of Sight

Through the iron fair-lead I pull the feathered light

Yet by a cord so thin it was only ever briefly seen

A swirling thread, a snuffed out candle’s prayer

Through the ancient pool of all there is

I pull my wisp of sight

And see but do not see

Eyes not half shut I see nothing

I look

And with eyes open I see not

I have too much

Too much hides the gift in just enough

‘Look,’ has its eyes wide open

And so takes in a flood

‘See,’ has its eyes half shut

To ponder and perceive . . .

To find in one single line of truth

Its fleeting thread

Which truly going through

Unravels me within 

All found in the undoing

The oil to slip right through

And the pull-less vision freed

Of every outward effort of my self

Then winded horn its strength

And the candle its second life

The subject given light 

Born of its being blown out awhile