Through Light

Glass beams perp on
a suction design, holding
in place the willful unwilling,
for and against the gravitational
reign. All is falling, held, welded,
dwelling as a non-parallel music,
walled up against the inside's out. 
Mired in clarity, clean as a thistle,
stuck in the thumb and plumb-lined
like a perfect up and down, made into
a final subject, unobjectionable, the
whimsical dimness, caused not by the 
immediate above, rather by the beyond fire.