The Secret Splendour

Paint not the thing but its quiver in your brain.

Name not an object, build up by its line—

Touch on mood-touch—a symbolled mystery.

Give all the initiative to unthought words.

Live in the palace on the other side of the stone.

Raise by strange harmonies some white Beyond—

A Flash supreme that wakes, in the abyss

Filling the heart, the Shape that no one is.

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