Lions and Gazelles

I stayed inside tonight, with moonlight slanting in through plastic blinds. How easy it was to filter out the infinite wonder of creation. But of course. richest in mind, I was of all animals poorest in sight. If I could enlist all humankind and stare through the 13 billion eyes and all the billions more that came before, even then my vision would prove futile. Because, while the lion recognizes its destiny at the sight of a gazelle, grasps it firmly by its jaws, and feasts on it, nothing visible under the sun or moon can fill the jaws of my soul. Even the sky above, packed so densely with stars that only billions of years of space can prevent them from blinding me, doesn't provide me a morsel. It's true, I have an expansive view of the land and sky from where I live. But I've seen enough gazelles sprinting through these grasslands, running races that finish at the claws of lions who, drooped in languor, perk up only at that critical moment when they can exert their power. This uneven contest no longer entertains me. So I twirl those plastic blinds closed and look inwards instead.