I thought I was growing wings—it was a cocoon.
I thought, now is the time to stepinto the fire—it was deep water.
Eschatology is a word I learnedas a child: the study of Last Things;facing my mirror—no longer young, the news—always of death, the dogs—rising from sleep and clamoring and howling, howling,neverthelessI see for a momentthat's not it: it isthe First Things.
Word after wordfloats through the glass.
Towards me.
