I take a picture
In my mind's eye:
The snow of the night
On the snow covering the night
As far as I can see, these fields.
As far as I can see, these fields.
I breathe deeply,
Breathing, I see the
Chiaroscuro.
Not so long ago
I'd perhaps have said it's
Negative.
Now no such thing,
Nor no such thing
As black and white, for
Without chiaroscuro I could not
Live in color, as beauty is only
Perfection in the grey mist of
Perfection in the grey mist of
My floating, carrying world,
The one I choose to carry
As best I can,
Mystic symbiosis,
And so whatever I do
Or say becomes just
Coloring my life
As I see it,
I guess through
I guess through
The shadows, though
I already understand quite a bit
About the highlights, and I
Understand our this,
About the small, disappearing
Journey.
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