Hands dig down in hot sand to its coolness.
Walls of cold marble are glacial, icy white.
Midday stillness shimmers thru the venetian blinds in ribbons of vanilla light. 
The sun, ready to set, hovers anxiously, insistently over the sea. 
Where are the people who are known by no one?
Shutters lock with a tiny hook. 
How can it be that only yearning and suffering 
will rip open the nameless gap in time that defies all logic...
so that we finally understand the Mystery and see with crystal clarity 
all that now lies hidden in such lush abundance?
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