The diver descends the aquarium’s liquid murk

in a man-made sea walled round 

instead of shored. He fins his way to

the view window where I stand, viewing fish.

Neither eel, fish nor sting-tailed ray distract

his eye or hand as he wipes away a film

I had not seen for seeing through.

Odd, that things are sometimes seen

more clearly when they’re gone; 

odd, the will’s webbed swim through

mind for what, after all, to think. 

Odd, it wipes its window with a blink.