It Seems
In the winter, love.
In the summer, fortune.
Hearts gather in laughter.
An immense tapestry
hangs the veil.
The flowers are our diamonds.
There in honey we wait,
anxious for the undressing
of ourselves to the clouds.
A little love is grabbed onto and kept
in its secret case
with a delicate hand.
With a little love
synapses grow
and reach out to opposite lands,
hungry,
where white radiance burns.
The sun sets down on something
it seems is important.
White lily,
you are far away.
Wide oceans,
the songs I've heard.
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