The open meadow in mist
of light
cannot be touched by
gnome or knight
The droplets hang in
suspended day
layered in meaning
the sighted pay
The page is turned as
a white dust road
ancient prisoner
you may behold
The cool browed vista
that lead to this place
is still envisioned
an altered grace
The metaphor
in draught or flood
can only whisper
of the Good
Away it goes
the way of earth
a tale a cycle
a chosen birth
Promises of rain
and yield
push to resist
a barren field
To faint now in
the face of dread
dishonors faith
in what he said
I watch the seed
of life be sown
In visions cast
thrown down, outgrown
Something new
must hidden stay
in artifacts the
dead display
Seeds and sun or
clouds of rain
bring you embraced
recovered friend
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