The way, for a
long time, we choose
to ignore it,
to circumvent it
with our crosses;
the way we offhand-
reference it
in every conversation
as if to toss out
to each
hapless interlocutor
a bite-sized buoy
on an infinite ocean;
the way, eventually,
we all finally stop
and just sit
before its quiet grandeur
with no need to look
or even speak
to each other,
contented
to simply read
and write
and warm our bodies
by its light—
all of these
must be mutations
on the way
we know of
to praise
this thing called existence
as it burns
in splendid effigy
to an urgent
unimportance.