When I lose myself in thought,
because I find, in the animal
I am watching intently, a more interesting
object of study, than me and my frailties
or my immoderate joys;
and leaving aside, in the process,
any and all vestige of who I am,
memories, duties or dates
or paints that still hurt;
when, stiff, still and alert,
so as not to frighten it,
I confuse myself with the animal,
already unsure which one of us
belongs to my consciousness of myself–
–something greater establishes itself
in this lack of distinction between us:
the glory, the beauty, the relief,
matter cohering impersonally, eternity.
Fróes, Leonardo “The Catcher in the Persimmons”. Ottawa: FlipSide, 2017. p.11. Translation by Rob Packer.