objects change then put
on form but the anti-type
That thing not shadowed
cloud and fire once actually
concrete now accidental as
half truth or as whole truth
Grass angels perish in this
harmonic collision because
non-being cannot be ‘this’
Not infinite to those fixed—
That this millstone as such
Quiet which side on which—
in us unknown to ourselves
by going about among trees
and fields in moonlight or in
a garden to ease distance to
fetch home spiritual things