Teloi

Calling to me like the sun

 trembling through a hummingbird

 stationed at the feeder,

dappling my chest

 with its pulsing shadow:

Our courses winging sails' beating

 toward necessary alightings.

And on the world’s horizon,

 toward the same sun,

 a respite—

before the machines pivot

 to aim alignment

by an eyeballed barrel fusing

 molten shards

 of iron by sand-heated glass, to

vomit an unknowable, alien star’s

 collapsing center, lingering by absolutes alone.

Read the Book of Proverbs,

 children.

Meanings as well as

 dialectic forms.

There is only the one way—

 and has a name, not an up-down branding circuit.

 Sophia.

--Douglas Blake Olds