The world, in a mind,
is constantly grating against heaven
is constantly dust in space.
The trees grow, o, and
the trees fall too. The rocks and plants observe
that nothing is given, nothing removed.
Constantly nothing at all.
It is not so hard
to see shades. It is hard to tell what lives,
- but this I know: we teach to our children
we say nature's a bright gift of it
and as all grows, all dies, this stays the same. This stays the same.