A swallow astray in my house. It makes for the light,
Darts for a window in swift and elegant flight,
Avoiding my hand with an easy tangential pass
And falls stunned as it crashes against the glass.
The wings of intellect bear man through the dark;
For ultimate answers he soars and sets his mark;
His elegant systems solve and speed him on
Unconscious of a fatal paralipomenon,
Something left out, not to be reckoned with,
Not conceived by science or adumbrated in myth;
Something of which he is totally unaware
As the swallow of its undreamt nightmare, solid air.
Suddenly the yielding element becomes a wall.
We drop bewildered, not knowing why we fall.
What in my house, what perhaps in my century
Waits to baffle us all? We can only wait and see.