The Unsuspected Garden
Exempt are us who fly Except a painting they buy Displayed in ancient Cathedrals Lost to their rules Too bad.
We opposite a hypothesis Impermanent, know it Whole universes couldn't change Our scratching, aching
Still we fly, through what? Perhaps the storm of control The birds, even, our compatriots Leave them behind, please, I say Their many songs—just us taking flight
So, fly.
See you there if you come. If you can.















