Monday Poem

Looking Up

the horizon circle,
past which I can see no further
in any direction other than up,
hems me in,
but looking up I can see forever
or as far as lightspeed allows
or until more time passes
or, more truly,
until now shifts again,
but by then I will have passed,
whatever that means,
since to pass is merely a term
proffering a hint of understanding
without understanding,
but there’s so much hint in being alive
the truth of our metaphysical deficiencies
has become second nature, acceptable,
we’ve become creatures of sacred
we live by them
never silent
looking up

Jim Culleny