Violets of all variety drift to and fro


The graves of poppies

Parted by a sky

As blue

And as purple, as snow


We all meditate

Try and find our sun


Some more than others

Some realising they have not one


Trees hold our life span

Across leaves as plain as you may


Levitating matter

Deprived, abyss-like minds


Oh sun,

When will thoust shine on me?

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