Poem: Dissection

Dissection

Pull apart each bit so it may
be sorted.  There is much
in this, water and fire,
air and matter, soft
shall be taken from hard,
light ripped away from dark,
shadow over here, caster
there.  We must find
how much of each there is,
must understand what we have:
the only way to understand
is to tear it to pieces, to sort,
to see what it is made of.  Do not
worry at all about the whole
or whether it desires
a different approach.

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