Historia Calamitatum
If he needs to think he needs to think
of— as in, to think of the granular feel
of the light falling into the garden this morning,
this a light and melodious morning,
but it may not be needed, nor desirable,
this light, this necessity, this morning. “A world,”
the boy said to himself—a kind of thinking, to say,
as in “he said to himself, the world is bigger
than I then thought” when the boy
found himself awake in the garden
among granular manifestations of light
such mornings, this morning, that last
morning of his past, or so he thought,
he who was to suffer, like the little children.
