The world was new
The darkness was a
Sacrament of light
Come away star
To the far edge of
The field
To the forest glen
Called upon cold
Triptych
Whether with you
Or planked from
Indecision rounding a
Necessary
Complement all is
Not lost
Not even his feeling nameless
Fear his monument of
Murmured
Meaning stretched
Across the soul’s expanse
And all the thirsty
Drank of it.
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