Space is merely Euclid's box,
Relatively tiny,
Theoretically speaking,
And pierced with holes
So that the spirits
Trapped within
Can breathe
the breath of light.
And light,
Snail-like,
Sneaks up on us
Across the void;
No longer the king of speed
But a dethroned loiterer
Trapped within
And hanging upon
the wyrd-woven web.
So,
naked,
one stone
kneels
before
the Rock.
