Standing
in the
Midway
across the bridge
Molten
silver going by me
As
the river flows beneath
Slipping
through the keyhole
The
locked room entering in
Bright
flowers gather together
The
walls are lined with gems
Met
with the searching light
Full
known the figments there
The
blackest are made of pearl
Where
hope eternal fills this air
Gleaning
the mirrors pass by
Caught
lies face the other way
In
the silver stream the hopes
All
outer bells are carried away
*
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