Proxies

A proxy for his being

stands before him

perfectly still and awaiting instruction.

An arm lifts, with an enclosed palm and an extended finger

so gently inviting movement onward, the proxy to move.

The proxy follows the direction with commanding precision.

Yet its knowledge is held back,

kept in a box too

distant to open but close enough to see.

So it walks,

in not-blind faith,

toward the box.

but falls to the ground as his focus is skirted elsewhere.