I set a pebble on a table by a spoon
And tried to tell the difference between
My mind and the surface of the table.
Evening stole the light and soon
The rest of the rest of the room seemed
As far as the spoon was from the pebble.
It was not the pebble or the spoon
That took the center of the scene
But the impulse engendering this fable.
There is no finer thought than this,
That what could be is not what is.