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What is there in the depths of these wallsIn the sound of the snow. What the countlessSo you can watch me watch uplifted snowTo reach out into its own vanishingSwaying in unison beneath the snow,The ordinary, wide scene which beginsDown the road, at Cypress Gardens, a womanAppear to lift up from the lake;With a hand freed from weight,Writhing their stunted limbs,Only a whiter absence to my mind,their bellies, they're out cold, instantaneouslyWould their world not remain comfortablyYes. The obviousWhere does this all end? What is the vanishingThat only you and I can know. Les deuxSilence. Your way of being. Your way of seeingAt four, the spectators leave in pairs, offLife, or only joy, that stands out