It startled me to hear the child say she feels
every feeling when she walks into rooms.

It made me think of a long brown coat I loved to wear:
how I knew every dent in its buttons, how my fingers loved
its capacious pockets.

I have had forebodings too, several times in this life.

Once, a man sat across a blazing bonfire,
combing his long hair with his fingers.

You can imagine something before it comes true.

Once, a man held a child
away from a rushing lorry.

You can close your eyes and still see
the outline of the moon.

All that the will asserts
is the measure of what we can’t know.


In response to Via Negativa: The Grays.

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