There are walls round countries and in the human heart,
but not one is to be found in art.
String quartets cut through cultures,
and the many faces of our beauty
shine in food and sculptures.

The fleeting, floating world
appears to us in evident permanence
and it is our duty to catch her in a moment.

Her joys are many, if only we can taste them;
some who came before us had this sensitivity
and cut through the obscuring veil in all its density
armed with form and colour and sound and smells
to guide us home, one we never truly leave,
that is re-discovered as shapes dissolve and thoughts end,
as we stand naked before our own beauty.

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