
Image by Thai Jasmine via Flickr
How can the need to grasp
Form a step or surface where the mind can touch?
How wise that touch should be;
As either receive, they meet.
How fine such a touch appears in wake.
When formed of dreams found only in sleep,
So see your hand then as it is;
To marvel at the rose now held within.
How do, you imagine the passing time?
How so marked by days before calm night,
As it is called by morning light..
Shadowed in the day; and yet so bright it seems!
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