While free of all consequences
Might well talk of brilliant light arising
At or around four o’clock of the morning
Or speak of a pristine darkness falling
Into our souls, sometime after midnight
And the joy we feel, interminably
When caught out by past coincidences
That too is able to be rightful, or seasonal
Such as any time, in breeze, or calm
With love absent, or love by your side calling
To all those doubts hidden in the shadows
And the time to be delirious
With the warmth of well-fired furnaces
That burn now, or that have burnt before
With sparks, and flames, and magical
Vapours filled to overflowing, as if volcanic
Gasses, surging with red-hot desire, and emotion
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