coldly cuts the beauty of this scene
a silver sphere on the darkest blue
far away, further even than truth;
a false promise
seeming soft white blanket on black
- a shroud on a dream
though all my being calls out
searching
though this moment is without reality
unless mutual
-or thereby-
into the frost flows my strength
under ominous skies
over oceans too endless
-shared and dividing-
already flutters, falters my will
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