This was already posted on my main blog, but it really belongs here, so I'm putting it here as well.
Turning away so as not to be found.
When, to reflect, we turn our gaze around,
He has passed by and left void in his place.
Though we may beckon him, he never stays,
Though we construct our own temporal bounds,
Endless refinement of eloquent sounds
Spanning five years was complete in five days.
I have no methods, nor know I of ways
In which to grasp the elusivist Next,
All I can tell is the Next has begun.
This ought not stop us from searching the haze,
Finding the charges inherent in text,
Don't close your eyes, don't pretend the job's done.
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