The Delicate Edge of the World

At the margins of the clear, where the eye
believes the form is already complete,
a secret fold, a fragile carving
of specters, just beyond what can be seen.

It is glass’s intangible aureole
that the sun breaks down into a veil of ink
and then refracts into gems, a slight measure
which unveils the border, its truth.

So the boundary dances, vibrates, and yields,
revealing the unsaid, the almost flower
of another light that no one sees,
unless one seeks at the edge, with love.