And what lurks in the shadow?
What hidden microcosm of magnificent wonder?
What overlooked, unintended and inconvenient truth?
What unforeseen illumination of puzzled violence?
What damsel of graceful innocence, betrayed by the goddess of luck or birth?
What poetic madman of disabled mirth, quieted to stupafaction and disheveled into insignificance?
What dispirited soul burning dimly with flaming tears and crying sadly for the mother of hope?
What translucent trembling words unutterable and misunderstood?
What symphonies unwritten, locked in the minds of youthful confusion?
What loving words of brimming passion denied access?
Can you hear the cry? Tis often written with a heavy sign from a weary sister’s eye.
Give but a silent and welcoming glance, a kind and forgiving word, for we are all of the herd and we all need the comforting warmth of the herd, lest we parish in a subtle asylum of dark shadows and silence and ignorance and bewilderment.
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