Everything I dream
must begin and end-
then why am I between,
waiting for a lost voice,
Wound and bound and cobwebbed
in time gone grey,
while the breath of eternity
riffles through me like the pages of a book?
And at the margin of the pages
is the purple light
of all things not yet come into being,
all things passing away.
My dream hovers at the head
of grief that threads the fears
of a sightless world and leads it
to the genesis of human tears.
(Rachel Korn)
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