How can we come to a true conception
Until we allow for a pure perception
Just seeing what's there
In its perfecting standing still
And beholding it
Without judgment or fear
But how far back in time
Do you have to get
To sense it's all pictures
Both themselves and something else
Like a hovering cloud
Working through them
Through the small space of the present
Another pyramid of sand is falling
But if you look away a moment
You can almost hear it singing
Something to us
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