As the light scattered
Across the sunrise sky,
Some clouds were painted violet
And others faded to a bright pink.
While I walked
Towards a fiery orange horizon,
I marvelled at how
Pitch became baby blue.
What spectra would be revealed,
If we let the machine
Try to make sense of it all?
What spectres would be dispelled,
As night is chased away
By what looks to be a sunny day?
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