In this vulnerable, resting, sunset light the eye is thickened with shadow, deepened by absence. Things hang in space, ground down by being seen, transparent — and the mode they exist in now is their mode of fading away.
The creating eye has weakened; and the world that streamed — is almost already all sea; whoever’s in front of me, behind me, at my side — is me, but isn’t here. And it’s already late. And the day’s over. And we were left here, alone.
On the banks of the world there we sat down, imploring our souls — There we weep, eyeless, when our gaze sinks into the great sea and we suddenly remember who we have been.