Reality lost in tangles of dreams

in briar roses and weeping willows

in trees of gnarled beauty;

branches twisting toward ceilings

like night skies emblazoned with

the spiral galaxy of stars we once lived in.

Now we stand silently,

entranced by this world, ruled by visions

becoming the darkness, the shadows

hiding in the corners until we fade to nothing;

pale figures drifting across

a floor of leaf-green marble, listening to echoes,

and the whispers of white air.

The pattern of life, an endlessly repeating spiral

we wished we had understood before

our eyes turned so dark even starlight drowned in them

and lions cried golden tears.


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