Snowy mountains lay afar the sound
towers strewn betwixt amidst foreground
tilts fail to change a vernal hue
crushed down by fallen trees, springs anew
Teardrop windows, iron, sun has set
drowned by lengthened western shadows yet
ivory to black, and black to spectrum wide
return again to ivory, white, black, nigh
The philosopher's vantage solely lacking view
All the world is but a stage?
Nay, the world is but a cave.
These shadows dance on Cascade walls
blinded by the canopy above
eking distant shapes in meager light
to set one free from darkness of the night?
Not even Plato could hope to see
the bounded lengths in front of me
Adorned the asymptoted lines
Euclid's promenades arranged, define
a truth beyond the veiled hills around