It turns but does not try to remember
it does not precede or follow
obey nor disobey
it is not answering a question
it arrives knowing without knowledge
it makes the pieces one by one in the dark
there is always enough dark
before time comes with the locusts
the insects of comparison the improvers
with their many legs in the dazzling air
they never touch what is awake there
and is not waiting not asking not fashioned
at one with the uneven current of breathing
with the age of silence in the rush of noise
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