If thinking is light damped down
Then the sun must be love positioned
At just the right angle
To create a miniature masterpiece
Of itself in each part
Intelligence falls in the air
Both manna and dust
Accumulating on my books
But when I retrace their steps
I end up with a single vowel
The holiest word I
My little precipice
On a hilltop in Ephesus
From which I can feel it all
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