By the stage of light and of dark
I dream softly between the lines
No man can find the time I seek
For none know where it flows most pure
Not clear or crystal nor purest white
And none know where it springs, but I
Blindfolded by the scrying night
I wonder down among the reeds
No man can find the treasure I seek
For none know how it gleams most pure
Not gold or silver nor brightest shine
And none know where it lies, but I
Beguiled by the faeries way
I stumble back into my bed
No man can find the peace I seek
For none know why it stays most silent
Not filthy or glad nor surliest mad
And none know where it floats, but I
Inspiration hits, courtesy of Mr. Yeats.
Comments
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glorious i love the image you painted here...makes me long for that gentle time myself



