Speaking out of a clear sky
I greeted two people at once; perhaps my eye
Saw less the real than the imagined figure.
These two repassed, rhythmically, like a fan,
Or like two dancers swaying
Apart, then eclipsing the other.
In an old painting Truth is drawn
In triumph by two elephants: a woman
Holding a great sword and a golden book,
While all around her, kings, philosophers,
And poets in her train
Nod and debate again.
How the rude sun has bronzed their skin!
See how her jeweled book reflects the inner
Light of their noble faces, of their crowns.
Truth’s jet-black broadsword shudders over all,
An iron ruler poised,
That suddenly may sweep down.
Out of a clear sky Art speaks
The truth; two dancers separate and mix;
Each of us is an atoll whose protective
Shell is hard. But, a true mariner,
Art looks far out, and Truth
In triumph rides, with Love.
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