His God

The glare comes from his god
Obscuring what he cannot fathom
And leaving alone what he comprehends
No matter how small the latter
He stares through the advancing haze
An exercise in futility, it seems
But he cannot make himself stop
This endless cycle of dependence
On what he cannot see
Or just a glimpse of his soul
Reflected in the simple glass
Coming back in shadow light
Faint but gaining momentum
Like a newborn dove
Leaving the nest at dawn
To fall from heights so high
And do it all again
As random as an autumn day
That leads to silence
Before exploding in sound
And drowning his god
In the shallow end.

Sam