What came first, the shadow or the leaf

it falls upon,

the sunlight or the pain?

Painted yellow, what calls, and what echoes, and what cries

through the valley;

And what strains the surface of things

when joy surges and the depths reach up,

and the wet sand dries and blows unseen to the dune ...

And what settles over my head,

misty and mysterious, indivisibly fine ...



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