I hide under
My bed
With the dead

Back to the
subtle pool
of dark and deep
that lay below illumination.

Wriggling, slippery
scales of black
in a pool
so hard to see,
so hard to grasp.

Down the hall
in the realm of control,
pulling into light a dark shadow.

Maybe two, but one.

Pull it close
to touch it in mind,
to know it and own it
and let it go.

So deep and dark
and subtle and fooling,
this pool of mind.

Take a photograph,
Let it develop slowly,
Patience is virtue.