every passing thought that you discard, disregard, or partly destroy,
that flees the best of your mind’s ploys in the moment of its finding,
that dives to the deep without warning, as far gone as widows’ mourning,
must be followed down the steep descent into dark, like the reflection
of the eye’s shiny spark in the mirror, the neverending gaze amplified
regard in regard and never dies no matter how hard you try, how deep you fly
