Words transform
Into images
And do not leave
Until you begin to read,
Once again;
The sound of gramophone
Becomes hoarse, slowly
Until the owner can no more hurry
To wind for melody
To play;
Images come by
Form and dissolve
At regular intervals
As if in
Seek and hide;
Everything
arises and passes away
Above sorrow,
To be shining, in silence.
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