The original draft of Poem LXII of aottsisfts collection
When the sun asked, "What is beauty?"
I did not answer,
But a far more distant star said,
millions of years from now,
"All that isn't"
And I believe it meant
something beyond our fickle mortal comprehension
the stars speak from the past.
Yet we worship them always.
sometimes I am angry
that I'll never know
I did not answer a question of the past, I heard the answer in the present, but I did not understand the distant voice which to me, had spoken a riddle.