Kaleidoscope IV ~ The Unknown

THE UNKNOWN The unknown. Through Kaleidoscopes of memory, We drift in sinews, From one story ~ wondering through a dream, The traveller takes a fragment that is home, Then directs the shard, To mirror images from afar. A pioneer holds maps to direct the hand, That points into otherness. But its broken glass frame leads roads, And bridges that collapsed off the far side of the world. Caves of light and a spectral radiance, Like a jigsaw puzzle of an impossible size, Was all of nature and men's eyes. Alone again behind a screen of stars, Spiraled into a web. The unknown awaits, Though it is not unknowable, From the eyes and mind, that do see in time. The turning visions that make, Duty bind us in place, And home where the mission must be carried, Unto the steps of Rome ~ It is freedom's looking glass. In a hall of reflection, With portraits facing inwards, A carefully placed selection, From worn cloth, and dusted shelf. A time-drenched film ~ drapes desk in panels, White of pages and ink of black, across a game of risk. Of opened cracks, One cannot guess the number of chance, Without the man left standing last. The unknown, the shadow of the unknown. Walks by pivots on its toes, Watching through a kaleidoscope of windows, At what plans they make inside ~ for the villains and the heroes. The great tunnel of cascading eyes.