Half of the world is hidden from us
Half of life goes on without us
But who knew about the other half of seeing
Buried alive in us long ago
In my mind its hand reaches up
Out of the grave of my heart
And slowly its body rises
Into a sapling or a flower
That only lives for a day
Turns out the eternal is evanescent
Grasped it escapes into the night
Where dreaming pursues it
But I am left with only broken pieces
Of the other half of sight
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