A Pin-Light Bent

My life comes and goes.
My life comes and goes.
Short flight, free rows:
I lie down and doze.

My life came and went.
My life came and went.
Short flight; free descent.
Poor flight attendant.

But the sky, over the ocean!
And the ocean, skirting the city!
And the city, bright as a garden
(When the garden woke to meet me),
From that height was a honeycomb
Made of light from those funny homes, intersected:
Each enclosed, anelectric and alone.

In our lives is a common sense
That relies on the common fence
That divides, and attends,
But provides scant defense
From the Great Light that shine through a pin-hole,
When the pin-light calls itself Selfhood,
And the Selfhood inverts on a mirror
In an Amora Obscura.

But it's mine. Or, at least, it's lent.
And my life, until the time is spent
Is a pin-light, bent.
It's a pin-light, bent.