Its solitary glitters where all
The shining comes together
Never, only see that darkness
Blotches being the moment
When the modal screens
The dreamer from the dream.
The sun is an alone, the tree
Considered in its greenery; the self
Is momentary, hinging on a number
Whose precipitations count. One by one
Objects loose their hold on screws that time
Had fastened in the joints of things to fling
New structures past the climax of tomorrow...
-- Do not think illusions are a sorrow.
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