Words are a human invention
Meant to express Nature
-Its bounty and perfection-
In just a miniature
For humans we are
Unable and flawed
And for words are ours
Unable and, themselves, flawed
And for Nature, by its virtue, is perfect
How come the complexity
That lies beyond
The everlasting subtlety
Be depicted by such simplicity
How come the perfect
Be understood
Through the imperfect?
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