First the eye
comes to terms with its own blindness,
sees through fingertips and the way
your shoulders scrape against the dark.
becomes the way the moss yields to the touch,
the way its pliant hieroglyphics runs
in veins and rivulets under the hands.
becomes the earth weathered to ash
and flake, its ravaged silhouette
eroded by the breath's slow chisel.
becomes the color of empty space, of your
arms outstretched in front of you,
of the uncertainty of the second step.
the cavern fills into itself, taking on
like an uncertain dawn the chameleon
colors of the night.
Walking into darkness
is walking into light.