All sounds sound different. When you come in all voices turn down, Nobody sees you arrive. No one can tell when you came in. Except that suddenly - seeing everything start to withdraw - And everything lose its color and edge. And in the sky overhead, still clearly blue, A definite crescent or a white circle or new light now rising - - - The moon grows real...

My soul came apart like an empty jar.
It fell overwhelmingly, down the stairs.
Dropped from the hands of a careless maid.
It fell. Smashed into more pieces than there
was china in the jar.


Nonsense ?  Impossible ?  How should I know !
I've more sensations now than when I felt I was all me.
I'm a litter of shards strewn on a doormat about to be swept...


My fall raised a din like the crash of a jar.
The gods that exist lean over the Bannister,
Starting down at the shards their maid left of me.


They're not made her.
They indulge her.
What was I - - - and empty vase ?


They starte at the shards,  absurdly conscious,
But conscious of themselves, not of the shards.


They stare down and smile.
Indulgent, they smile at the heedless maid.


The big star-carpeted staircase spreads out.
A shard is shining, glossy side up, among the stars.
It is my work ?  My one and only soul ?  My life ?
A shard.
And the gods squint at it, not knowing why it got left there...