In the night,
Beyond the light,
Something formless peeks
In the sound,
All around,
The voice of sing-song shrieks.
A poem falls with a shooting star
Into a purple pond
It melts and fades and sinks and stays
And forgets where it’s from
The sun comes up with forgetfulness
That the night is so denied
The poem rose to remember much
Yet it came to me and lied.
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