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While she observes how glass is made invisible,
I don't tell her that with every stroke matter becomes thinner,
to vanish eventually into something known as nothingness.
In sparkling water pouring down into a shallow pond
she expects clarity, transparency, and other things unknown to me
A dew covered web reaching from fern to rock
unable to hold much more than the smallest insect.
There is only shallowness
and a narrow way for water
to reach a motionless surface,
waiting for the wind to blow again,
and for I that shall start anew




Geregistreerd op:
22 november 2003

Uit: NL


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