There is a world that is so large
(It is not built of sticks Like a seashore nest), It fills itself. It needs no prefix. It needs no study, it needs no Preparation or label (Perhaps it is a nest, Perhaps light behind a fable). All learning, warmth and kindness Prepare us for the boulevards Of that world, for its skies, Its words, its camelopards. We are walls, and all Our preparation strips the paint, Those dark and uncouth layers That spattered on our windows in constraint Of light that propagates, That blazes through the scattered dew, That flares across the wheat and sod, Beneath the stork’s eye point of view.
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Yaacov David Shulman
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