A Transit of Blue

A strip ripped out of the Milky Way,
a slice of galaxy, the boundaries
high walls we can’t see beyond.
We imagine
illusions where the image flips:
first a hag, and then a beauty.

Whatever our mind’s eye selects,
we erect
a vision and follow it forward,

hoping to find reality –
a glow-worm grotto
or devouring mouth –
forgetting that we define what we see,
we see what we expect
while the truth is blue and boundless.