On Method -- Mary Margaret Sloan

Verifying our position, exponents of the settled view
mechanically issued silence, devotion, upon the sleek
surfaces of the ground mirror. Blackened,
it is the best answer for all who might object.

Where to look, or when look, or why. In the end,
you have an instrument at only a small fraction of its worth.
With a will, a fuse, rely upon the familiar
metallic star. The night may be unexpectedly cold.
With a value treacherous perceptions desire,

beyond our reach or so hidden
in these thoughts as the boundaries of each other
chromatic name are fixed, desire does not need a fact
and will continue, without it, to be all that it is.