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We see these riders from above,
as the light sees them,
though from our far right,
sending long shadows toward our left.
Light does what we do, likens like things:
The gold translucence of a pony's tail
claims kinship to the gold of its rider's
shoulder and side. The dark sides
of each belong to each other
(as do their shadows) more than
the bright half of each belongs
to the dark half of each, more than
each belongs to its own shadow.
Shadow of man and horse, tree,
weeds--these belong to each other,
swallow each other up, are one thing.
You and I are not touched by this light.
In the world of this painting,
in any world where we are what perceives,
we have no standing, no shadow, no gleam,
no mass, no motion, no form.
We are above; we are like the light;
we only see; we are that which
occupies a point from which to view
and by our agreement, determines
what can be seen, what seeing can be.
You and I, we are alike.
October 6, 2002