• III •
Daylight struck the face of a man who slept.
His dream was more vivid
but he did not wake.
Darkness struck the face of a man who walked
among the others in the sun’s strong
impatient rays.
It was suddenly dark, like a downpour.
I stood in a room that contained every moment—
a butterfly museum.
And the sun still as strong as before.
Its impatient brushes were painting the world.