01 November 2015

2622

















2622
It's an improbable hour
When I realize where I am,
Not by this path nor that corner lit,
Nor under any sky,
But within a confine wrought
Myself upon my skin.
Yet as the sun that lesser angle makes
To impediments of its light
Am I by my longer shadow pulled,
And the path and the corner lit
And every sky there is,
Within this confine's brought.

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