It is a different light
in the same sky
that moves me,
the alphabet of life
on every leaf, every tree.
The forest keeps
its secrets sacred.
I still hear ancient names
from recessed ives
of the very woods
that haunt me
as a child.
This veil, this mist,
these webs of spider
cast across the hollowed crescents
like whispered spells-
undisturbed, deserted,
wasted. The same night
in a different sky...
the exactness of the heart
pulsed through unfamiliar eyes-
the grand delusion.
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