ineffectual fancy

when the eye opens
we forget
everything

eternity sleeps in every blink
the black of night
the clothes of death

it is easy to derive
her meaning in the shuttering
of the light

the division of life
in this way
marks out the scale she plays

the bounds of sleep
on our being
absorbed in infinity

where else could she silently lie
but beyond the blackness
when I close my eye?