Do you think they saw signs of waxing life too?
Quits moments while in the mundane they saw it as well;
pleasant nostalgia a spectacle but that a frame fits in.
It mingles now as it did but so different it looks now:
A silly house of mirrors in half in parts ad finitum.
I saw it looking a sort of way, it’s sides all blurry.
Do you think Washington had as many mirrors in his silly room?
Felt the ground beneath him move charmed by hunger.
I once never saw them, new it all seemed but how
I can craft them now: my silly house.
I know every way of looking.
I mark twenty five near twenty six on my tombstone.
‘Tis well, my new series of marks.