SO I SEE
It is quiet in Versailles, and I
am here alone. Wherever this is.
Another place with a different name.
I see the sun behind the morning clouds;
it is there, perhaps, but it disappears. A
thin drape of gauzy gray, a smoke of
clouds, a form only suggested, but
round, I see. I 'know' that it is there.
Do I? Is this really not Versailles?
How much of all this do we take
on faith? A simple chisel cut
on a fleeting piece of granite
too. Itself. This passing
cloud of life.
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