The cat inhabits when she sits,
And what's withheld is in her eye.
What unsprung poise
Shivers the stillness of this gaze?
The bordered terrace of a dream
Bears the commission of her place
My envoy to what's before me.
2400 This moment has a weight of stone That holds itself aloof From the landscape of my dailyness, Whose lightness wants no proof. My eye enframes this clouded sky Which seems to stand apart, Yet if seen's the same as seeing, Time's a subtle art.