It is the language of poets, in so far as they create true metaphors, which must restore this
unity conceptually, after it has been lost from perception.

I leave before dawn. While the sun tries to enlighten me, my bones are already warming
the earth. A breeze rustles the leaves; golden flowers chime in: Blue tongues personify
sparks that leap into darkness...

where our ancestors
   are dancing
             in ever tightening
                       circles.