Sad sets the fog on the trees
Sickert them through the branches pale
and drops gently past me
It is the sound of silence in the winds
otherwise waved at high altitudes and other beings
mild lively
And these beings once dreamed by
me and my life too stringy
What would give everything I do not dream of being one of them to order one of their dreams
as if it were my life
burneth as it would be my dream burneth
(11 January 2011)
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