among all this
a cauldron for we are in
thrown about the business
the veil of our lives
fueled by our eyes-
which can only see but a short distance,
only to a horizon perhaps-
even with enhanced lenses
spun out on the pinwheel we ride
all life,
all life we know is tucked in here
we wish to see a reflection somewhere
a mere blip on the radar
even if one-
a glimpse
a loch ness monster of the cosmos even
for our vast oceans
we barely know, ourselves
the strange depths do not compare
to that ever stretching cold-
spiked with stars and suns
blazing blisters as have spun
and died
to become the domain of nothing
of the reverse, a hole so black
as to swallow sight
the same sight we are so sure
shows us the world in true
but so little
so very little in truth,
when we can not even skip a jack
over to our near neighbor, dear andromeda
and perhaps find some poker partners
to freshen up our game, the river
and the odds?