The cathedral is silent. Interior dimness.
Life is more than repeats. More than
Redundancy. What is it? a dream in a
Dream? Moving like snails, eager
To make motion. Greeted by
Mayflies. Wrestling Descartes. Tugging horns.
By gray terrain, soreness and storm,
Making illusion. Surely, it wasn’t by
Verdant earth, tolerant of absence. They
Could have given hell—more color.
Never as it became. Never as it whispers.
The room is loud. Exterior spirits. To
Wish for it—alike to a child; to arrive at
Parts of a classical film.
