The text is oblique; transience,
The setting; morning moments strive
To goad the abyss or dive
For balance in the languid silence
Of high noon’s bleached and satellite hours
To the edge of obscure drifting
From the point of consciousness, sifting
The ashes of that passing evening’s fire.
Comes the occasion, the premise, the stunning clue
And nothing stops the process save the circumstantial fingers
Of the stage manager, and what light lingers,
Resolves, extinguishes itself in seconds, minutes: the view
Stupendous in the void. To kiss a memory and leave it on the stage
Transcends the loss, the pain, the striking of the set, the turning of the page.