I used to think that mystery
Hung somewhere out among the stars
Like silver bells and mirror balls
On the celestial Christmas tree.
But understanding changed my views.
To know how much you know reveals
That what is known is not too much,
And this is not too happy news.
So mystery crept here from night.
It rolled like mist up from the dusk
To blur and smear the sharp and clear,
Enticing with a subtle fright.
It did not hold out in the stars
But moved in close at breakfast time
To stare across the coffee pot
With one foot here and one on Mars.
Here its one-toothed finger points
To objects, thoughts, things solid, bright.
Sharp edges fuzz, ideas fall flat.
Frozen, I sit, world out of joint.
Yellow Eyes surveys my house
Where I have lived quite rigidly.
He turned construction into cheese
Transforming God to Mickey Mouse.
Now I play cards with Yellow Eyes.
The coffee pot has gone quite cold.
I sometimes, even, win a hand
To his chagrin and my surprise.