The patent ambiguity of time
from summer rain to January snow,
the meanings hidden deep within a rhyme
for hearts alone, that minds will never know,
intangibles alive beyond the ken
of common man and woman. Out of touch
realities where flesh has never been,
a paradise for dreamers. Out of such
I know a place where wrong is never right,
where all the many miseries of man
are vanishing or vanished out of sight
like fairies in the never land of Pan,
Below the far horizon, yet above—
the world of our extraordinary love.
© 2006 W.D.Neighbors
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