On the canvas of a mountain morn, clouds and sun are one.
Negative space or positive, 't is difficult to discern;
misty moisture permeates the one and dew drops cloak the other,
while the golden, sourceless light emanates from each and every and all.
Slenderest strands of spider's silk amidst a forest of flowering herbs,
flowing with light and warmth and wet.
There's a lesson here, I just know it;
No, I feel it... in my heart.
A million such dawns, and now another, come and gone,
but we haven't learned it yet...