yet rendered quite unique by one's experiences and
a tenebrous mystery
is that of freedom's most distant
almost estranged
possibilities.
More immediate though
are fettering quandaries of meaning,
clumsy appendages of word which
flare succinct
at times
like brighter fires
on darker nights:
their shadow,
(silent ambiguum),
of virtuous flux
contains taboo
as well as that way
paved with compassion
for love of youth.
Hiding or lost in the undergrowth
are doubting angels
awaiting the thrill
of such rare
such tactful
understandings:
a glimpse of drying iridescent wing,
their almost-nothing
gossamer of forgotten things,
and punctilio:
like the fracturing of a delicate egg.
This is the desire
of those creatures
with disaffected violet-blue eyes
expressing at times
in bursts of brilliant hyperbole-sunshine,
joyous recognition of stirring growth
or shelltap.
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