Occasionally birds alight upon it; enormous
fish draw their torsos near, next move away.
The surface line defines the parts distinctly –
the light one, presented in a polar world of night and day,
and then the dark, immensely bigger one, ushered
in the night.
From side, the body as a whole seems onesame
in both worlds, its non-segmented forms
imply resemblance in perception – as though
each part cognizes with the surface of the other
and all the signs upon it echo in response
to the opposing part. Yet no!
As soon the Essence nears, the notions staunchly
disunite,
as if it passes through and scatters them apart.
Sensing its surrounding contours, them alone
each part discovers. In the looking-glass emerges
only half the Being, the other half –
being so close to appearing within the frame,
unavoidably remains beyond, unreadable; throbs muffled,
humbly manifesting its existence.
And nothing
links the halves together, except the line
dividing them.

While melting.