We see things in our own way and meet in these places
What I look upon I soak in and takes possession
I watch only variations upon a theme
Life crawls in corners and makes itself warm
Images and these desires for what might be
Yet contentment for what will
These should not contradict
There is something wrong in your math if they do
Mine is far off yet still can be counted upon
Do you have enough to stand
There is more lost than I have
More than needed one day on the beach
I was there no one else came the looking
There is this element and dimension and friend
Very mathematical and alive
Places I have not been there are also
In this tapestry I find me
And nothing foreign
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