Many
hands dip pulling weeds
Sudden
delight is taken in it
By
the few clutter is removed
The
many see not what it is
Many
went to grip the fullness
A
bright star had lit the way
Dressed
in grey it was not seen
Mixing
many colours we lose it
The
first ladder was laid flat
And
a second was brought
For
awhile light poured out
And
they saw inside the pips
None
a third ladder stood
It
is not separate from them
They
could not understand
None
could drink this cup
The
fourth was left to swirling
The
labyrinth not yet revered
The
curved that try it are unfit
Only
the narrowed fit a finding
Before
see-through eyes, dust
Before
a lighted dawn, the dark
Promised
of a thousand promises
A
crushed she-lamb lies down
*
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