Starecase Poem by gary Sansom

When one is without, it appears.
I couldn't recognize you as an appearance,
of what we are meant to look upon as our peers.

Witness a shapeshifting, subject put in place.
You've got a thousand yard, crafted yarn.
The makings of a real starecase.

What did you see back there, in the absence of starlight.
Standing in a tight corridor.
staring straight right at, and into that room;
you were so intentionally drawn to.

Intonations that belied a presence unseen.
One thing held fast.
Was there that visitation again,
From the dark ages of your life.
like for like, brought forth in disguise..

Always as rigid you stood real still.
Followed a line of sight.
your eyes gradual, slide like ice.

when the lights flicker and alter,
what's perceptual material, on the peripheral of matter.
You never falter, not an inch is flinched,

You once came to me and claimed to be.
Still born of this night.
You stare with the lack of all there is in sight.

All that is light is absorbed by your eyes.
Nothing but ink, pours down deep between your thighs.

Well, just what did you observe reflecting back from that room,
With such keen sight you so stared into,
the entirety of either side of the known spectrum.

When the darkness closes in, and takes over,
then you'll know, another form of something,
staring straight right at, and into you.