it is addressed thusly:
A thought.
it reads:
Black on black, as gloss on matte
Are the colors of our knowing
They have no light in them going
In or out, but doubt is flat
And the sun is not forthcoming.

Synthesis! The thought is this
When experience shatters your perception
You must alter your conception
Quickly, for this not remiss
Lest you pass onto exhaustion.

Discipline, I shall say then
Must be your greatest teacher
What was bug must become feature
For to the soul you search within
And in this way you may reach her.

The small contours the great ignores
Form the subtle marks of the real
This obliqueness is its seal
To look askance one abhors
As if to do so was to steal.

So to see the truth as if with sight
Takes not opening every door
I have concluded all the more
It will suffice to turn on the light
And put one's face upon the floor.

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