The room looked like it had been lived in but the closet and drawers were empty. I sat at the
small desk and rummaged through the drawers and discovered an envelope. I opened it and
inside was a poem. I read through it several times looking for a new clue, but realized that
Twilight wasn’t going to be found until she wanted to be; that Tully, Digby and Brevis had come
across an ephemeral being who molded in the moment to the aspiration of others.
Could it be
If I looked carefully
Fully
Into the air around me
With the naked eye
Could I see
The thin chords
Connecting all things being?
And with two fingers
Focus found
If they lingered
Both anointed
And pinched at the unjointed
At the perfect moment
Could I catch a string unbound?
And with all concentration
Could I pull this consecration
Pull until I know it’s direction
Would it be a contradiction
To predestined ordination?
If I could hurry
But one string
One loose end
To bring into being
One wish or joy
Could I then choose
My destiny?
Could I choose my sweet delight?
Could I choose my sweet delight?
Or ignorance
Of divine mechanics
Could I choose an endless night?
Darkest of darks
Lightest of lights
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THE CONE - ISSUE #15 - 2018