The problem with light
Is that, in bursting down from the heavens,
It alters all it sees--
It creates colors,
exaggerates forms,
hurts your eyes
and braises your skin;
The hapless heliotropes
Are jerked this way and that
From morning to night
And their necks get sore--
But at nighttime, sealed up, they dream,
Seeing with the eyes behind their eyes,
Because darkness is truth.
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