Am I truly honest with myself only in earth's shadow?
What does sleeplessness allow me to learn, free
Of obscuring clouds, using untried telescopes
Which I focus backward at this incredible journey?
I scorn a glib answer, especially from myself,
It is a balsa-wood infrastructure fabricated
To block the merest glimmer of introspection:
It arises in the vacuum of consequences misstated.
So many answers, so many solutions
Present themselves on this lonely way;
But the only measure of value of each
Is how it holds up in the plight of day.
