all the walls are shaking softly
& the sharp shining cuts
the roof’s relief across cracked brickwork
to show what went unseen
before the light of evening
pulls her black shawl over the city night
as streetlights flicker
& buzz to life, falling west
across the breadth of habitation,
right to left.

the sunlight shakes the seasons
& from fall winter springs
So summer might shed
raw, bright, Light on the heart of truth
its Whole & its seed & its root
& its leaves.

The trouble is, truth
neither sees nor believes,
So how does it get off
Being?