The ebony shade had cast a dark distance;
The depth of night would swallow echos whole,
Leaving no trail and no solemn mark.
But, a million delusions would rampant rage,
Ripping and tearing at an illusory cage.
One fine mark, between light and dark..
Clarity would tease its way through the shaded groves
And the branches would create a labyrinth,
Showing the light where to go.
To my heart and the center of the circle.
Where, on the hill, the sun rises purple.
And the lonely chant drifts off like smoke..
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