The Other Face

What if Eurydice
Were the one who made it,
And it was Orpheus,

The bright, clear voice, the lyre,
That sank into night’s waves—
Dimmed Eurydice—first.

Change and necessity,
Chronos and Ananke,
The two entwined serpents,

Are one, duality
Proving the existence
Of one of anything,

But if change is the bright
Face of phases, orbits,
Abrupt impact craters,

Necessity is dim,
The bubble of absence
That hides something in it,

Ananke, gravity.
Nothing continually
Draws nothing much on, in.

It’s change you wait to see
Rising, crescent or full,
Waning or waxing, lit

By a burst of impact,
Or bruised by an eclipse.
Ananke you only

Know as an emptiness
You know can’t be emptied,
When the dim arc’s glimpsed first.