Stairs to a Gaze | Poem

Put down in a pasture

Meandering tongues and hands

Counting, counted, and counting on more

Never once thought of again, never spoken henceforth.

A time and temple of thought and solitude, more of bitterness and less of love

Now just a deserted place that no person should enter

Wondering, wondered, and wondering again

Divine sleep to the infinite end.


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