The light’s fingers trace through the trees
Identifying the dappled contrast in stillness
Between the mass and each unique form
Holding memory in time’s hand;
Neither a trifling matter
Nor a principle particle.
While the body of day and night
Passes along without keep or promise
For those who wait in measured gaze
Or who lust in mad blindness
For meanings beyond emptiness.
If it were not true that hunger - has no please.
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