I saw two eagles on the sky in strength stirring protean penetrating pure dark tresses of the beloved fashioning the bright scarves of wind. I saw a karacal leap dancing with air lean grace turning like a feather on the wind.

Tears drop as honey from a jug. Leaves fall, and sun. I said, I did not say: these chameleons are with me always.

Past's prism, future's mirror with present's lens of mind form last light from dark eyes different every time what is there. What is there? What message, knowledge, yearning chasm-vast; regret perhaps perhaps I am mistaken.

Every time the last light leaving dark eyes is the same music fading from a road. The fine fabric of distance cannot bear it lessens and is gone. Silence without wind sifting it this light is not physics or philosophy. I seek it like the well in the desert. In silence.

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