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the hermit

the vision of such a man is carried with him,
passing through his father’s hands,
he is protected from the mundane
buried in his memories,
and so,
from strength, we found the cure,
my cure, but never lost
this deep cut -
this thought of mine -
ascribed to the lady asleep
beneath the rainbow bridge
now hidden in your black heart
as in an animal’s heart
and burned, burned.
So, come, my guide, to take me alone again
with the bones of the sacrificial dove
to the edges of the sapphire shores
where once we gave up our powers
but found nary a white star for this
shining Venus within.