1.6

wisdom written upon the sky

is what they followed, best

minds, hearts atuned to a

pattern in the universe.

the clouds at evening now stretch

like a dark puzzle, spaces

pushing light through the edges

asking to be put right.

can we see a living hand beyond

or has our search blinded us

to see dead matter only,

sparse

complexity, simplicity, both

akin and spare, with ourselves

only as witness, witless magi, adrift

on a spotless sea.

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