and lots of
pretty things out there,
but true beauty
is rare;
like a blank spot
which does not cry out
to be filled in,
the kind of quiet
which does not announce
"I am keeping quiet"
in a stage whisper.
We have seen it seldom,
as we are far too poor
to afford ourselves
to notice:
how fortuneless,
how willing we are
to sacrifice experience
to the god
of Having Been There
when really, it was everywhere
(that's why the instruments
couldn't measure it).
All along, the allure
was attention itself,
not the purported locality
of its center;
it was the laughing,
not the laughter;
the actual fact
of being seated here together,
not the table
or the chairs.
