The day in night, the bottom in the top,
a word of nonsense, spirit in material,
fire in ice, sweet bitterness, an opposition
of harmonies, suns reflecting their moons;
the subject in the object, the second person
confused with the first, the lesser vehicle
seems greater, the semblance of illusions
resembled in deconstructions of delusion.
I slept and woke, I dreamed while awake
of a dawn at Sunset, an image of ideas
or a figure representing the holy ghost.
But contradiction, juxtaposition, paradox
and riddle are the only means by which
we may believe in what escapes knowing.
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