We bathe in contradiction for a while,

Which harshness of proximity creates.

Magritte did not intend to reconcile;

Stand back or near, the viewer still debates.

 

Where does the darkness end and light begin?

It seems as though the night should not be here.

Yet lower down, the slowly gaining gloom

Sucks out illumination from the room.

Outside, a lamp burns weakly in its frame,

Defiant, as if fighting back a sin.

The lake side, barely visible, draws near.

Then, through the trees, the cotton-wool sky’s hue

Is painted in a blazing daytime blue.

Now darkness seems to hang its head in shame.