The Sameless

The sun sculpts in dust,
Winged beings being
Coaxed out of sameness,
The secret of waves.

There is no sameness,
Truly, just enough
Similarity
That the infinite

Can be introduced
Through the countable—
The most worn-down flecks,
The most burnished lives,

They all look the same,
So that counting breaks
In the uplifted
Eyes of an angel

The sun carved of light.
No, it didn’t mean
To make the nameless
The impossible.