I imagine the journey
Starts with colour,
Say, blue and fire.

Will the eye ever
Let go its grip
On what it’s caught?

There is so much wilderness
Within this arranged
Garden, this banquet.

Then the mouth,
The geometry of the unsayable.
Which must be seen, only.

I have no inkling
Of the mirror I am.
It’s enough to long,

Or feel the chill.
This will suffice –
To know a face,

And guess and guess
Again at how the world
Is made out of this.