The veiled one replied,
And who wouldn’t be proud of me?
An atmosphere of polka dots of
Light bent on gravitational waves
Within a vast ineffable folded space
Some degrees north of an asteroid
Belt held her nebulae in place
Beneath a sulfuric acid sky.
There is no weave, no hue devised
What can hide divine form from the mind.
Even the deepest blackest masses
Yield their truth with backstage passes
All in their own due time.
It’s just a little ways
I said to make the 6:58.
Stopped once along the way by
Stutter steps and heavy breath
With diesel passing on the left.
Three chums into the boxy whale
Before I scarce could catch its tail
And mouth agape it kindly waits
To catch me in the baleen seats
Along its windowed flanks
Only to spit me out about
Twenty-some odd times a week.
Been awake awhile now
While most are still asleep.
I could regret about everything
But I haven’t got the time.
I’m not the strongest link
The weakest or the richest soil
To grow a crop of human
If you hold on to your pride,
My name is gratitude,
I will remember you.