Reading Spinoza in December
To see the crystalline composition of ice
You must step on it. Watch the way it fractures
Beneath your boot. These jagged spokes
Speak the radial secrets of its nature.
Ice strives to shatter. It desires only
The lugged force of a foot descending.
In this there is nothing of the occult.
What is material remains so. What is
Solid declines to sublime. Broken ice
Is still ice. Bringing this to light will not
Invite the warmth of winter sun.
Studying the fragments, you might
Imagine you can intuit the whole
From which they come. This edge
Fits into that wedge: This piece and that one
Obviously rhyme. Still, something is missing,
The very effort of understanding
Having reduced hard shapes to powder.