I look through the doorway
into the next room.
There are billion stars between me
and that next room.
Things and ways that I do not see.
But I’m a human being on Earth,
I know everything I know
because of my senses.
I trust them.
They’re efficient.
They’re logical.
They’re accurate.
I am righteous
and if I’m not, then I can rely on
the consciousness of others and
words written in scripture.
I can persecute.
Though lest I know not,
I do not see these billion stars
between me and the next room,
the wooden floor
that extends out in linear perspective,
the ports of time,
there, away from me
in the silence of the dark house
at night.
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