In diluting dark of the night like this
There is Kierkegaard type of clarity
Of either/or,  before and/or after death
When clarity shines  like clear water
And words do not obfuscate  sound
And/ or  sight, but  are mere smells
From a night,  like  its dew on grass.

It is night's dreams that wake you up
Their words do not smell like a night.
They choke you in  your deep throat
Colorless like water , neutral to nose.

Up there they will ask what about clarity
They ask Kierkegaard-like and you say
Except for dreams that have no smells.

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