By  Rajosik Mitra

Balanced at the edge of my dreams
Is a vision eluding me
Like the rain falling soft –
In the dark, you hear but cannot see.
To have once heard the lore,
To have it linger like an image
From an old dream of long before-
Is the key to a strange truth
A strange truth from an ancient rune,
That draws you forward
Like moth to a distant moon;
For I have loved the things
I see and hear in vain,
Searched every dark corner
For pain with a greater sustain;
To now lie moveless and breathe
In the air that fills my breath,

Through a haze of blue, show me-
Things too deep for love and death.

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