low bush blueberries in the high alpine

humans
did not invent
electricity.

humans
did not invent
light.

early
in the morning
and
the fog is dense.

every
electrical light
wears a
halo.

every
electrical light leeches
light
from the sky,
dimming it.

fog,
dense,
creates a ceiling.

inside
this room
the electrical light
only brightens
the dimness.

every surface is
wet
though it does not
rain.

small breaks in the
fog
give way to sky
beyond.

sky
can enter,
through these
small breaks,
though
it chooses
to remain out.

a
human body
moves through
the dark of
early morning,
the dim of
dense fog,
the holy smear of
electrical light.

moving
further from
the human settlement,
the artificial lights
lessen,
as does
the fog.

sky
is given
wider purchase
of the small
understanding
of the moving
human.

sky
is indigo
and
deep violet.

sky
is pulsing
at its eastern edge.

sky
contains light
which
a human body
thinks to be
impossibly distant,
sky
knows it to be
close.

frail
and meager
humans
spend frivolously
to try
and reach
these sky-held
lights.

frail
and meager
humans
boast at their
perceived achievement,
hopeful
that their
nervousness
and frailty
does not
shine through.

right now,
at all times
of
human existence,
there have been
those
who are able
to travel
out into that
unknown space.

those
who can do so,
never once
tell of it.

sometimes,
for reasons having
little to do
with luck,
one
such human
will choose
another,
for
accompaniment
out from beyond
our ceiling.

when
they return,
neither
will speak of it,
neither
will have
any desire
to do so.