Faint intimations pierce the mist,

provoke us
closer

to persist,

give up precision:

now doubt encounters indecision.

You pause to ask, "Do I exist?"

We step from worlds once well-defined
to cross more thresholds
less refined

as clarity gets cloaked in gloom
and dimness spins its dismal doom.

What might I mind
whence eyes deceive?

Who could be lost
should you believe?

One must
propound,
expound,

proceed,

exceed all dying lies decreed,
confirm which revelations wait
when lives pass through that closing gate
which disappears, as Eden did,
with myths and wishes fears forbid.

So, is this where famed thinkers go
to face those notions none may know?

Come, peek behind the veils of time.

To seek the face beyond sublime
--yes, this may make our final quest:

surrender sense, then find the rest.