The voice has a single eye whose vision is
nonetheless binocular.
That is, the voice and the eye together.
The eye of the voice
is like the eye of the needle.
In which the eye has two sides, can be seen
from both sides,
and is a medium through
which its own measure can be passed.

Those who do not let the eye
go through the eye
are barred. They are barred
from the voice. Their eyes
I have quietly closed, cut off as they are,
from the hospitality
the voice gives, as a great friend
offers shelter, when sight
fails its rightful, dual
architecture with song.