The gift

I see with sightless eyes
From fate's dark, lonely cell
The motion of the skies,
The world that turns so well.

So I have come to know
Within this dismal hold,
Whilst rivers freely flow,
 Where nature keeps her gold.

Thus with the clouds I fly
Warmed by the golden sun,
With rivers I sweep by,
The world and I are one.  

  

1980

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Text and image © Mirino. September, 2011