I’ll never forget the first day I saw you,
when you appeared a wonder
in the small world of mine.
The way you left me awestruck
by the beauty of your overflowing emptiness
and homogeneity with the air outside-
a thin fatal film of separation, like a glass window;
It was a pleasure to watch you foam
And die in a second.
But why is it that today,
not just today, but throughout the aged present,
You don’t enchant me as of old?
Is it because the world itself
is a nine-day wonder?