Worlds turn, light twists
we sleep. Gold dreams
come through stars and cloud
black horses of the mind
drift through the sky.
days’ pain made soft
through furred air
we wait in the wings
we hum in the dark
rise now in the sun
paths turn, feet shift
trees strangely seem
in this cold borning light
Have we not changed
(minds, hands, eyes, thought)
throughout our sojourn
in black crystal dreams?
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