If I say that my beliefs
Are a product
Of my country,
Of my epoch,
Then am I
Caught in that sly
Trap of History
With no words to deny –
For the Cage that falls
Is the Cage of Language.
My belief in relativity
Is relative to itself.
Devoid, perhaps, of authenticity,
It begins to gnaw upon itself.
The Invisible Man
Imagines the color of his eyes.
But the mirror shows nothing;
Nothing until he dies.
Who am I when I sleep?
Who am I when I dream?
Beliefs are fish that leap
In a transparent mental stream.
Happily I fish,
In my country, in my time.
For the world, by turns, shall fade
Through my ignorance sublime.
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