Pattern, like a magnetic field,
is passionate in restraint; limits compress
significance; framed energy is sealed.
Objects, having nothing to express
except themselves, attain intensity
in assumed balance, which alleges,
in face of our amorphous liberty,
the joy of everything with edges.
But these tight contours owe
shape and definition to the eye
of inessential man who
from complication learns to simplify,
fuse form with what alone forms cannot show,
and in this act becomes as sure as they.
