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One departing wind, soft timbers, steel seeking its last sun, aluminum called natural, and raw materials heard as sound make nearness feel industrial and elegiac.

Material language replaces human drama, yet the mood remains mournful. Timber, steel, and aluminum seem to age under one wind, as if the built world is entering its afterlight. "There is a sound to it" suggests that substance carries its own music or warning.

A pared-down recasting of the 'Near' material, this time clean-typed and without the eruption into violence. The departure is hedged into supposition - 'I suppose we left' - and the wind narrows to one: 'There is one wind / That has left.' The industrial images soften and grow stranger: 'Timbers soft and bayed,' 'Steel sought its last sun,' 'Alumian is natural.' It ends on bare questioning - 'Where are raw materials / There is a sound to it' - holding the elegiac note alone, the slaughter of the parallel page left out entirely so only the mournful music of spent matter remains.