We wander through a world clouded by a gray mist
Among the changing, shapeless forms, loving or
indifferent
Marking us
The truth, as always, is there
Waiting to be uncovered
As we seek to claim that part of the infinite
which belongs to us
Focusing inward we penetrate the heavy veil
And glimpse with blinding clarity
What is meant to be
At that fleeting moment – when inward and
outward are one
We encounter our own truths – reflected by a willing
soul
Rejoice and reap the harvest sowed in darkness
It must sustain us through the lean seasons
Until the next fruitful encounter
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