Light,
Early and late
Combs out the trees.
Something, not fate,
Turns the keys,
And your state
Finds its freedom.
Now, to relate,
Creates.
(The metaphor
Of metaphor's
just bait.)
A little more
Uncomplicate,
Then wait.
Preserve what
Believes last,
And tell plain.
The Truth's
In the Space,
Not the frame.
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