Rather than words comes the thought of high windows:
The sun-comprehending glass,
And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows
Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless.
{ wear }
As the bird is to the air
and the whale is to the sea
so man is to his dream.
His world is just the glare
of the world’s utility
returned by his eye-beam.
Each self-reflecting mind
is in this manner destined
to forget its element,
and this is why we find
however deep we listen
that the skies are silent.
"
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