Even the even-ing of things suffers from the unevenness in which they first happened

On the fully turned out darkness of an even-ing therefore almost over

The ink with which someone pre-western setting began recalling the day’s form

Has to be exchanged for one that sits contrast brighter to the lunar suppression of most shaping

And where first reflections had been written in lights previous to the occidental collapse

The difference of a total shade now hides in the same no longer opposite in colour;

But once the oriental resetting of skies by morning comes, those letters will be revealed again

To which those of whiter impression nocturnally concerted will bright-on-brighter blank out

As day 2 is begun in full mourning of the One vision lost again through the solar transitions;

As someone restarts under this next sun, perennially indebted by the ongoing incompleteness of a First day.


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