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“Limbo” (Dec ’44)

Free friends that are alone to stray
In some lost unfathomable place.
You do not see as I now see
Or feel as I can numbly feel
Beauty of a sick and weary world
And stray along the labyrinthine lanes
Of seasoned hopes and loyalties
Your ichor is the fancy of the moon
Your consciousness the benison that flows.
From the iris of a myriad flaming suns
And depth of day not faulty shown
Upon the changing shadows of your eyes

We lived swift lives in closest hand,
With limits of that nocturnal steel,
Mined in dreamlike caverns of the clouds
Where weave the shrouds of centuries.
We laughed long with the morning sun
That often was our evening star
When cooling dew was all we felt
Through wispy threads of nearness
As bedward over fields we strolled


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