These fitting days of lucid grays
have never ended drier.
The warrior sleeps, the wizard keeps
the seeker falling higher.
Fluid runs the bezel gem
in sparkle of the time.
Breathe the child, kiss the stone
and dance between the rhyme.
How the evil and the strong
helped the window shape.
Long the leaning fen light grew
and hung below his nape.
They took the fire, lit the eyes
of never hardened rapture.
And ever since, your Yes or No
has far outrun my capture.
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