The impression of an impression—
a cloud like the wing of an angel, but
indistinct, and in ten minutes
shape-changed. This is how data reach us
from beyond, seductive, blurred
and imprecise.

We’re determined to understand.
We study and discuss until we think
we’ve reached a conclusion, something
logical and steady enough to stand on.
Until reason collapses like a broken
bridge, inadequate.

How clouds occlude a sky. How even
when there’s a full moon we lose our way
through the woods until, almost by accident,
we arrive by the lake, and the doubled
image drowns us in soft light.