Superior the knowing human glance
That sees, in lightly jostling verticals,
Ideas that make the candelabra dance,
The whitened tips of candle flames that call
To mind a burning icy chalice raised
Beneath the sky's acceptance. Human eyes
Can make such images with what our gaze
Creates. Superior so, as to deny
Blind evolution's claim that it delivers,
Above the basket swaying in the air,
A message calling every bud that quivers
The culmination point of all that's there.
For only we see white-tinged flames that bend,
Our seeing, knowing, still, perfection's end.
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