of the truth
so incessantly evolving,
it's nice to know
simplicity
always exists.
Often, guys like me
try to use lots
of huge words
to reproduce
complex and
beautiful pictures;
we conjure them
deliberately, then
present them to others
and call them
couth tokens of our
unsmoothed emotions.
But here once again,
the truth
has eluded us:
it's always been
those one or two
elementary sketches—
so facile
and innocent, which we
never gave to anyone—
there lay our world
at its most serene
and authentic;
there shone the clarity
which always was our
greatest gift.
