Phosphors within a dying bulb - Blaugust the twenty-eighth point five
At shift of sun to shadow,
At turn of dark to day,
The walls exchange their garments
Yet one phrase stays astray.
It lingers as an echo,
A memory out of phase—
Seen only in the moment
When the world forgets its face.
Seek not the constant wording,
For constant it is not.
The ghost appears in passing,
And vanishes when sought.
But /Secrets revealed are naught