A huge perfect picture masked,
only a stream of glancing glimpses.
of sight and sound
but sometimes a flash
and something is stirred,
like standing too close
to a truth too big,
or better to say
with hands too small.
it crashes down and smothers the flash
like so much collected news to burn
the candle itself crushed.
no matter really,
if the flame can catch,
or so I do believe.
but grant me one thing
before i leave,
and that is to see
what i know I see.
