The importantlanguage stutters to close. The mountain of it tall tires patience, like foam on seawater. A battlebegins, even as Europe disappears. No one complains. England will returntopastures, graying evenings, the wedding of light to rocks and trees. George Mallory will climb foreverin the decent light of snow. Everesthas been a town for ages, with little people next to it. Fury resighns to patience, returning eagles to conundrum, alerting branches to the rivalry of foliage. We take oddnotions to the tops of things.
The work becomes chiding of sunlight. The work is elegy and shaded. The principle ciphers as a god, in the way transience is purpose. Transience works this brief, ending fields, making trees concern. The hell of halting midway identifies the work of burning thru. Forever makes a sign. Sign makes worthy. Indeed the tramp of feet forward concludes any sentences but suggests more. Long sentences, stupid words. The caroling heard by Dante, brilliantine remorse for a better tide. The long road up from down, and turned around. The work then becomes the work now, as stained glass similitude. Anxious in the class structure of catastrophe, the baying song over all. Nothing to do but be done. Ruskin gave you papers to remind you. Slow battering concedes the earth in time. Time being functional and oblique. The worker inside sees the nation by exhalation. Transitive connection sports of culture. The class that ends becomes the class that begins, both left and right.
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