By Clinton Van Inman
They say that most of you is missing
Perhaps from your most private places
Something more than just an arm or leg
And deeper than your darkest spaces.
Researchers conclude as much as ninety percent
Lost deduced from a long line of X’s and O’s
But it takes no greater science to tell me
Your muted mysteries no one knows.
I too have peered down your opaque passages
Have felt your fractal pulse dimensionless
Have seen your eyes hidden in a veil of stars
And knew that you are quite featureless.
Like staring at the stars you cannot be seen directly
And all your skies are blue from a distance only.