The speaker feels utterly trapped, as though the sky has been sewn shut and invisible columns are squeezing in around her. There is no way forward. Then, without warning, the world flips upside down. The Earth's hemispheres reverse, and in that impossible instant she touches the universe itself.
But the contact is fleeting. The universe slides away, and she is left alone—a mere speck on a ball—hurtling out toward an edge she calls Circumference. She goes beyond the “Dip of Bell,” the very sound of a church bell’s toll, meaning she has passed the reach of community, ritual, perhaps even life. The mood shifts from suffocating enclosure to a breathless, cosmic thrill, then settles into a profound, silent awe. The speaker is at once terrified and exhilarated by the immensity she has brushed against. It is a glimpse of infinity that leaves her lonelier than ever, yet somehow larger.