The eyes which speak a language of their own
like two vessels that voyaged world and soul
and from the temple of a sage is crowned
vision woven of cloth became two wholes
The tongues along the palettes dance along
retrieve from present hours, future love,
wake from the sleeping hours a moment
turn back the tide of time to long ago
nothing of compassion is ever lost
yet hours are not hours for their own
while they exist for centuries alone
making by their making original
a mind performs a fountain of its form
imagined in the candlelight’s own force
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