Antique philosophy in
compliance with Eubolides
We do not belong to real phenomena.
We are not found among fundamental things:
We are the colours
shifting around in the tiniest of cracks.
We are the shadows. And the all too lively fire
allows us for a moment to play against a wall.
We coruscate, we opalesce.
We are the flitter,
fluttering shadows and light
over the stones below brown bog-water
that flows so rapidly in the mountains.
We only exist from the side,
and only as long as the fire is very lively.
Real things are not like us.
Real things have darkness and weight,
they possess a terrifying density
and we are not ever permitted
to see them.
They move across the floors of the world
down there beneath the light of all suns,
they are gigantic, like fish of black stone.
They are the real things.
The oldest fish.
To see the original poem, go to here.
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