Planeando in the dark space a line of light in movement does it`s not find with its origin. Thus we, beings born in the light, get lost on the path of life, forgetting our origin.
Nothing darkens the vague memory of the path travelled by light and replaces it with fallacious, human creations that allow the seam to be seen before more capable eyes. For this reason, the voice speaks of fraud:

feeling stolen
from the void of all-seasons.

And he is enraptured in the contemplation of the brief flashes of different lights that come appearing through the fractures of time:

tines
of fracture-thin light—
sing by the wayside,
bring me dim sight.