SPINNING BALLS
When we are not there is the only
Time it will arouse attention.
Three spinning balls larger than
Questions work themselves into
A frenzy of needing someone to see
Them, but it is never us. No matter
How hard our prayers become there
Is no way we can see them, even looking
At mirrors does not serve us well.
I’ve been going through this dilemma
For years now, mostly after dark when
Without reason I become obsessed
With this idea as if it were a void
In my life. I try to observe the scene
To no avail. I am fervent even when
It ceases to matter. It seems as if
I could win this one without a problem.
I’ve finally made the decision in advance;
To know how beautiful they are without having
To see them spinning there, throwing off
colors and sparks, dream-like mists,
A music never before heard. It is
Truly beautiful. I will lead my life knowing this.
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