The Piper
As it once was and will be,
In cherished green, A piper sits with glee,
Puffs into the blue,
Watching whimsically, waiting to see,
The Colorless presence humiliating,
Randomly running without purpose,
Dancing comfortably still in silence,
Attractively seducing a lonely fleece,
Sitting high above our native skyland,
The burnt resin in a twist of ultimate fate,
Is caught carefully by the piper as he sits with glee,
A harness that bounds his imagination; mind's eye,
Horatio motes and the piper learns his tricks,
And, as it will always be,
The source by which the mind can see,
Has seeds of which no one can see.
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