O wandering brilliance--
Avatar of our pilgrimage
Toward ourselves,
How the point of light in me
Rose to meet you
As you soared
A motive star
Across the scrim
Of the suburban night sky;
What you showed me
Was myself:
A frail enclosure
Moving across vastness
Containing life
Crossing paths
With other
Translucent vessels
On a journey that
Appears linear, finite,
But is in fact
Cyclical,
Eternal . . .
--Mr. Gobley
