Day 20

The room is white, the table green
With checkered board on't, ten by ten.
Feared über-master yet unseen
Is watching, edged by mist foreign.
Beside is velvet sack serene
To brim with words well-comfort known
Or imagine-made or in-between,
Each weighted to our culture's own
Mass of meaning or side-swiped sense
That to our ears springs consequence.

I place upon each square of white
One word, once settled shades its home
From lightest pale to blackest night
As would that word be judged alone.

The empty squares fall one by one
(Mosaic)
Until my work and strength is done.
(Ecstatic)

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