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Shahariel: Awaiting the Sun

strangely the thought hovers, lost
in the nightmare zone
between dreamtime and dawn

the nexus of a whirling
storm, battling spin of ideas
wondering, and whim

here it is quiet, there is no
fight and far-flung grief
in this pale eye

the air settles, cool around my throat
a song of winter sky, white
swirling mists of morning clouds

I find a ring of burning stars
but it is not written
that time shall pass me by

drifting, that cannot drift
in an infinity of moments
I await the break of day

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