Mar. 9th, 2016

proximoception: (Default)
I sat down where the waters fell
And halfway heard within the swell
Of waters pushed from out their nest
By waters one sweet song of rest
That took dimension in my thought
And detail like a self-enwrought
And painted mantle in a dark
Of stars that swarmed about my bark
And asked the question old as time
That stars when viewed ask: was I rhyme
For that that these cut out or just
Another in the spray of dust
That danced within their light like elves
Then settled onto shadowed shelves
And made those choirs dust themselves
Without a way carved out between
Clusters of crystals hung unseen
About the cave of night by forms
Dispersing in that first of storms
That dances in our faces yet
In drops the waterfalls forget
Entrancing us in sights so wet
We miss what there behind was set
And fail to read its sign: To Let.

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