It happens when you’re not looking.
Sometime after the middle and towards the end
when it’s easy to miss the fine silver thread
waving from the middle of your chin.
Unlike the shallows and the crags
the Rorschachs that shift
remind you where you’ve been
where you’re going.
Come closer. Look at the eyes
resting most of their lives on the pages of books
where the living and the dead
wake you-feed you
with little more than words
and if you’re still-nudge you
to notice the night sky
starring Venus-goddess of beauty
shining in the window
lighting up the dark.