Light and the Mole
With a cry of, “Time to fulfill soul’s role
and to burrow till I die my burrow!”,
there’s a mole who earnestly digs a hole
every sunup to sundown most thorough.
With simple silence of enlightened space,
light falls upon the down mole’s above earth,
where, breathtaking, a bejeweled life apace
is unearthed in all of its spirited mirth.
What if, in one impossible moment,
our busy mole held its breath, poked its head
through the black hole, and with a squint’s foment,
beheld the breathless possible instead?
In this blink, our mole, with no time to think,
might see the sublime through a wormhole’s chink.