Scope traces bounce in steady patterns Forming a landscape of mountains and valleys From sounds that reach their highest pitch To silence below that deepened dell From thoughts that bring us here to there Through empty space and selfless care From bright colors that hold our sway To darkness separating night from day From cool winds that firm our glaze To stillness fixed on so empty gaze That trace moves on… While at our peril it etches new landscapes Ignoring the striking view And denying the breaks between the lines.