Only once, one single shoreline walking, Your sole hand speaking sought its pause in mine. Of knowing then, now, of other tenses I reweave harmonies I fear unfurled. No touch, no fragrance, nor the simple tone May grasp an image of the knowing seed, Describe the phantom that a mind conceive.
Transparency is forced through all matter.
A closed world of complete accounts. Whatever the practical difficulty of knowing every move, of keeping track, getting everything right. Because there is a reassurance in believing that if only we could, then it would be possible. The maze, the net, circular and reticulate, world without end. An eternal promise of tomorrow.