Beyond the fence of should and seem,
I found a province of pure blue—
A truce between the earth and dream,
A truth the lens alone could prove.
The finite frame holds infinite sky.
What fault is there in shade or beam?
I lift this small, defiant eye
against the slow, forgetting stream.
And here, arrested in its flight,
is all the evidence I need:
Life, caught between the dark and bright,
performs its brilliant, stubborn deed.