Strange how the night breathes deep
This poetry,
How this evenness of breath is found
In the strangest faraway countries
Of the mind.
Here where my body lies
Something other than thought
Now runs through my brain,
A long hall filled with shadows
And murmurs—the unintelligible wisdom
Of a forgotten dream.
Time permits that nothing be fully seen
Except light and darkness.
But I will strain my eye toward the horizon,
Where the trees will soon turn green
And the sky turn the color of light
Hitting infinite space.
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